A Marriage of Convenience
by Dorothea Greengrass
Summary: Harry is blackmailed into a marriage of convenience with Daphne Greengrass. Ten years later, Ginny forces her way back into his life when a murder occurs... AU, EWE, romance with a side dish of mystery.
1. Foreword

**Foreword**

This story was inspired by Cara-Leigh's story "A Convenient Marriage". Unfortunately, that story was never finished, so I took the freedom to borrow the basic idea and ran with it. I'm sure anything I came up with has nothing in common with the way Cara-Leigh envisioned her story.

A warning:

I've tried something new with this story. For the first time I've written a multiple POV story, and decided to give each character its own chapter. Therefore, quite a lot of chapters are extremely short, not more than four hundred words, if that much. Also, a lot of the chapters end on cliffhangers. Don't tell me that you haven't been warned. ;)

The estimated story length is about 200k words, with an average chapter length of about just below 2k words. However, some chapters are up to 5k, while others are well below 1k.

The good news:

For the first time I had a story completely plotted out before I wrote the first word. So far, I've written about one third of the story, and I have a list of chapters that still need to be written, and I know what's going to happen in each chapter.

There'll be 100+ chapters of this story, at the moment 107, but I might split up some of the future chapters when I deem it necessary. I'm going to post them bi-weekly, on Thursdays and Sundays. There'll be a break from May 24th to June 3rd, and another from August, 26th to September 16th. During that time I'm travelling and have no idea if I'll have internet access. As soon as I've finished writing this story, that'll give me time enough to revamp my three ongoing stories and finish them.

A big thank you goes to Shygui, my partner in crime while plotting and writing this story. His advice and input has been invaluable, and without him the story would not be what it is shaping to be.

I hope you'll have as much fun reading this story as I have writing it.


	2. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Many thanks for Shygui for his invaluable help while plotting this story and editing it. You rock!

* * *

 **Prologue**

 _ **The Rectory, May 8th 2008**_

Daphne fiddled with the clasp of the diamond necklace as she sat in front of the mirror of her vanity. Tonight's Veterans Ball was the perfect occasion to wear Harry's present for their fifth wedding anniversary - if the stubborn clasp of that dratted thing wouldn't drive her into insanity beforehand. Why did Harry have to insist on having safety runes inscribed on it that made it impervious to any kind of magic? It was impossible to put it on by magic this way.

She let out a frustrated hiss.

'Problems, dear?'

She looked up at the chuckle behind her. Blue eyes met emerald green in the mirror, and her treacherous heart skipped a beat.

His untameable black hair, still damp from the shower, stood up in all directions, and added to his boyish charm he still hadn't lost. He had a towel wrapped around his narrow hips, and a few droplets ran down his tanned, well-defined chest.

Her gaze followed the way of the droplets, and her breath caught. Daphne lowered her eyes to hide their hungry expression from him. She schooled her face into a composed mask and looked up. Their eyes met in the mirror. 'I can't put it on alone.' She held the necklace out to him.

He took the glittering jewelry out of her hands and stepped behind her. His body, fresh out of the shower, radiated warmth, and she caught a wisp of his light cologne. His hands fumbled with the clasp on the skin of her neck. 'There, done,' he said, but didn't step back. His hands came to rest on her bare shoulders, and his warmth permeated her. She leaned back against him and closed her eyes.

'Tired?' he asked.

She shook her head. Truth be told, she was exhausted. Harry had been in France and Italy most of the week, where he had looked after the Muggle part of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products, the company they both owned in equal shares. As the second in command, she had to hold the fort in the company's headquarters in London, from where all parts of their multi-corporated, world wide operating company were coordinated, Muggle as well as magical. However, she'd done that many times before, so that was no explanation for the leaden tiredness that had made her want to fall asleep at the drop of a hat during the last couple of days.

There was no way to let Harry know how she felt. Being Harry, he would insist they stayed at home so she could get the rest she needed. At any other ball night she would have been tempted to let him see her exhaustion. But not tonight: magical Britain celebrated the tenth anniversary of the victory of the Battle of Hogwarts. As the hero who had won the war single-handedly, Harry couldn't stay away from the event that was also meant to celebrate him.

She had to be by his side on this occasion, vibrant and sparkling, her blonde beauty the perfect background for the dark, handsome hero. If only that ball was already over, then she would be allowed to curl up in her favourite chair in the conservatory of _The Rectory_ and sleep for the rest of the weekend. A wistful sigh escaped her lips. She cursed herself and opened her eyes. Had he noticed?

Of course he had; his eyes searched her face in the mirror, one brow raised. She suppressed another sigh: he knew her too well.

'I'm alright, Harry. A little low blood pressure, maybe. Nothing a glass of elven champagne can't cure,' she said, and picked up a thick, soft brush to perfect her make-up. Was it enough to lead him off track? She glanced at him from under her eyelashes.

Her words seemed to appease him: he gave her shoulders an affectionate squeeze and then walked to his walk-in closet that bordered their bedroom to get dressed.

Daphne let the hand with the brush sink onto the dressing table and watched in the mirror how Harry's back disappeared into the closet.

"Affectionately." That word described best their relationship. He cared for her, and his level of activity in their bedroom was amazing, a sure indication he felt attracted to her. Not that he ever had a hard time to persuade her.

Her face grew warm. She raised the brush and went back to work on her makeup in the soft light of the two chandeliers to the left and the right of her dressing table. A dull ache spread in her chest. Would he ever look at her the way he used to look at _her_?

Daphne let out a sigh in the solitude of the lavish bedroom she shared with Harry. Had she been right to marry him? He didn't love her: he had been blackmailed into this marriage by Father. Father had done the same to her, but she had already fallen in love with Harry.

So, when she accepted Harry's proposal, she had also created her own very private hell on earth. The first months of their marriage hadn't been easy, nevertheless in the end they had become friends, and lovers soon after. Maybe everything would be different if they had the children they both longed for. It would give them a deep connection to bond over.

But ever since that miscarriage five years ago she had failed to conceive. Her mouth curled into a wry smile. She couldn't blame that on a lack of trying on Harry's and her part. Would she ever become a mother? She posed the silent question at her face in the mirror. Her own sad eyes stared back at her and confirmed her doubt.

'Are you ready?' Harry's voice interrupted her thoughts.

She nodded, stood up, and grabbed for her evening purse. The folds of her strapless, floor length, silver coloured taffeta ball gown gave a soft rustle with every move she made.

Harry regarded her appearance, and his eyes lit up. 'You look beautiful, darling.'

Heat shot into her cheeks. Great, now she reacted like her fourteen year old self at the Yule Ball. She had attended the ball with a boy from Beauxbatons, Raoul Something; she had forgotten his name. However, she hadn't forgotten the exaggerated compliments he had paid her, no doubt in the hope to get into her knickers later that night. Many men had paid her more tasteful compliments after that twerp. They didn't matter. Only a compliment from Harry was special to her.

'Thank you. You also clean up nicely, Mr Potter.' She let her eyes sweep over him.

He would break hearts tonight, no doubt, and not only female ones. His black dinner-jacket-style robe fitted him like a second skin, and the silver and emerald green waistcoat over black trousers emphasised his narrow hips, and his incredible emerald eyes that had become even more prominent since he had taken that potion... She shuddered. Why thought she of that dark moment of their past right now? It was better not to to take that trip down memory lane.

A few moments later, they walked down the marble staircase. Harry took some Floo Powder out of the jar on the mantle of the huge, ornate fireplace in the formal sitting room and threw it into the fire.

'Silver Phoenix Resort,' he said.

Daphne stepped into the green flames on Harry's arm. The fireplace was high enough for her that at five feet three she didn't have to bow her head. Harry, however, had to duck. Even though he wasn't as tall as his best friend, he had reached a respectable six feet when he finally stopped growing.

She supported him during the dizzying ride through the Floo system. No matter how often Harry had to travel by Floo - and he had to travel quite a lot these days - he still hadn't mastered the art of not stepping out of a fireplace face first about ninety percent of the time.

Today, however, he had to steady her. She almost landed on her posterior, if he hadn't kept his arm around her and held her tight. His emerald green eyes were the only firm spot in a spinning world. Her stomach had a hard time making up its mind whether to continue to turn or not. She wasn't going to let it win: _The Daily Prophet_ would have a field day if the wife of the Chosen One threw up all over her husband the moment they stepped out of the Floo.

As always when they made a public appearance the press swarmed around them, a bevy of pesky insects. Flashes of cameras blinded her, and the smell of burnt magnesium assaulted her nostrils. She swayed, and the bile raised in her throat yet another time.

Harry tightened his grip around her waist and gave her a quick scrutinising side glance, his brow furrowed. She leaned against him like a deadweight. Thank Merlin he had developed some muscles after the war and held her upright with one arm without effort. She forced a charming smile on her lips - at least she hoped it was charming. She was a Slytherin, after all, and they all were accomplished actors. She'd learned in her first year at Hogwarts to show the world an unconcerned face while she felt downright miserable, and had even more practise over the following six years until it had become second nature to her.

Harry ignored the questions of at least two dozen reporters. He wasted no time and led her over the red carpet to the entrance of the reception area. As soon as they were in the comparatively calm reception line and waited for their turn to be greeted by the Minister for Magic and his wife, he took her chin in his hand and examined her face.

'You're as white as a ghost,' he said. His index finger caressed her jawbone, and his eyes searched her face. 'Do you want to return home?'

'Don't be ridiculous, Harry,' she said. She cast a quick glance around. Drat, every eye in the room was turned on them, and no doubt the elegant couples around them strained their ears to catch every word they spoke. She lowered her voice. 'You're the guest of honour, so we can't turn around right now. I'm fine; the Floo just made me nauseous tonight. It'll be gone soon.' The noise of the excited chatter of over a hundred people in the brightly lit room masked their conversation.

He didn't look convinced, and he opened his mouth as if to contradict her.

She put a finger on his lips. 'I'm alright, honey, really.'

He gave her another long look. His other arm still encircled her waist and held her close to him. His body was tense against hers. 'If you insist.' He relaxed and leaned forward to give her a butterfly kiss. He raised his head and let go of her chin.

Daphne's stomach made a little flip-flop, but this time it wasn't due to the Floo. From under her eyelashes she cast a glance at her husband. Had he any idea what he did to her whenever he touched her?

He sensed her gaze and looked down on her with that devastating smile.

She averted her eyes; her heart pounded. Merlin, at the ripe age of twenty-seven she still felt like a teenager when he smiled at her. She lowered her eyes to the ground and fought back the sudden urge to drag him back home and spend some quality time with him. At least that made her forget the queasy feeling that still lingered in her stomach after she had overcome her dizziness.

The reception line moved forward with agonising slowness. It seemed like hours until it was their turn to greet the Minister.

Kingsley Shacklebolt kissed her knuckles. 'Daphne! As radiant as always, I see.'

She answered as it was expected, and then hugged Hestia, Kingsley's wife.

'Minister, Mr Potter, one photo, please.'

From the corner of her eyes she recognized Bozo, the photographer of the _Daily Prophet._ Where Bozo was, Rita Skeeter wasn't far. Daphne curled her lips. Ugh! Was it possible to turn around and walk away? Probably not. Age hadn't mellowed the self-proclaimed star reporter of magical Britain's biggest newspaper one bit: if anything, the poison she spread with her articles had become more deadly. Though there was no denying that her articles about Harry were outright flattering since the end of the war - even Rita Skeeter knew that it was professional suicide to slander the Saviour-of-the-Magical-World like she had slandered The-Boy-Who-Lived - it was better not to provoke her.

She plastered a smile on her face and angled towards Harry. He drew her closer to pose for the photo with the Minister for Magic and his wife, and she melted into him.

'Harry, dear -' Rita Skeeter turned up by their side. Where had she come from? A poison-green Quick-Quotes-Quill hovered over a sheet of parchment that levitated by her side.

Harry held up his hand, palm outwards. 'Not now, Rita. Tonight's neither the time, nor the place. You know how to set up an appointment with my assistant if you want an interview.' He smiled, yet there was a hint of steel in his gentle voice.

Skeeter twisted her thin, scarlet red lips into a pout. It would have looked adorable on the face of a seventeen year old. On Skeeter's elderly face that was forced to a youthful appearance by a copious use of Glamour Charms and too much makeup it looked downright disturbing. Daphne suppressed a shudder.

'Aw, come on, Harry, you know how difficult it is to get past that dragon,' Skeeter said. She stepped closer and put a hand on his arm.

Harry flinched and retreated a step. Skeeter's hand slipped off his arm. 'That's why I pay her such an exceptionally high wage,' he said, and smiled at the obnoxious reporter.

Skeeter kept on his tail.

There was no way she would let this woman torment Harry. Harry hadn't let go of her when he recoiled from Skeeter. Daphne angled towards him; she almost shielded him from Skeeter with her back. She raised her hand to touch his chin, and turned his head towards her with two fingers.

She batted her eyelashes at Harry. 'Honey, I believe Hermione just waved at us. She's been in Berlin last week. I can't wait to talk to her.'

She was rewarded by a smirk that flashed across his face and was gone in the blink of an eye. He schooled his face into a polite mask. 'Of course, my dear.' He smiled down at her, every inch the perfect husband. 'Excuse us, Rita. Another time, maybe.'

Skeeter shot Daphne a dirty look. Her eyes scrutinised her from head to toe, as if she examined every detail of the strapless evening gown that clung to Daphne's curves and flared out into a mermaid skirt at her knees. They came to rest on her flat stomach.

'You wouldn't happen to have any _interesting_ news to tell, would you, Mrs Potter?' she asked. There was a malicious gleam in her eyes.

The polite smile on Daphne's face froze. A dull ache spread in her chest, and her mouth in vain tried to form the adequate words to put Skeeter into her place.

'Rita, you know we never discuss personal matters at public events.' Harry's voice seemed to come from far away. The soft pressure of his hand on the small of her back propelled her forward, away from Skeeter and her cruel barbs. His arm slipped around her waist, and Daphne leaned against him. She revelled in the comfort of the warmth of his body and smell. She'd recognise that smell anywhere: a mix of his favourite cologne, broomwax and leather.

The wall of ball guests closed behind them and obscured them from Skeeter's curious eyes.

Harry kissed the top of her head. 'Just ignore her,' he said next to her ear in a whisper.

Daphne nodded. If only it were that easy!

'I'm such a failure of a wife.'

She must have uttered that thought aloud, for Harry gave her a sharp glance.

'Now who's being ridiculous?' he asked, and softened his rhetorical question with a kiss.

Comforted, Daphne allowed him to lead her deeper into the reception area. It was crowded with even more people, all clad in festive ball gowns and evening robes. The smell of expensive perfume and cologne hung in the air and mixed with the fragrance of hundreds of candles that burned in the glittering glass chandeliers. The queasy feeling in her stomach raised its head again.

They made slow progress across the floor: every few yards they had to stop and exchange greetings. Thanks to Harry's position as the Vanquisher-of-Voldemort, and the business connections and wealth of the House of Greengrass and the House of Potter combined, among the two of them they were at least acquainted, if not friends, with everyone on the Who's Who of magical Britain.

They reached a quiet spot, and Daphne let out a deep breath. Finally! Her face hurt from the polite smile she had forced on her lips while they greeted their acquaintances. There was a tightness in her skull, a first sign of a developing headache. What in Morgana's name was wrong with her? Maybe she should have listened to Harry and returned back home.

A house elf in a miniature waiter's uniform approached them and offered them elven champagne. Harry picked two glasses from the tray and handed one to her. She smiled at him and took the glass out of his hand; there was nothing to be gained from letting Harry know that she still wasn't feeling well.

At the smell of the alcohol her stomach began to squirm - again. She held her breath to avoid the smell and pretended to take a sip. She cast a glance from under her eyelids at Harry. Had he noticed her sudden aversion? Merlin knew he was much more observant than anyone gave him credit for. Otherwise, he wouldn't have survived everything he had to go through. He returned her glance with a scrutinising one of his own. Busted!

A brown-haired missile prevented her from having to answer any questions from Harry.

'Harry! Daphne!' Hermione Granger-Weasley beamed at them. She threw her arms around Harry, and Daphne took the opportunity when Harry wasn't watching to put her glass on one of the bar tables that were decorated with floor length white table cloths and a long stemmed, pink rose in a crystal vase. The next moment she was engulfed in one of Hermione's trademark hugs.

'How are you? We haven't seen each other in ages, have we? You really need to come over for dinner soon.' She held Daphne at arm's length. 'You look better than ever,' she said, smiling warmly, 'although a little pale. You work too much.'

'Thank you.' Daphne laughed and returned the hug. 'That's the pot calling the kettle black, Hermione. You're also looking gorgeous. Where's Ron?'

'Right behind you,' said Hermione's husband of five years. He wrapped his arms around Daphne from behind and gave her a small hug. 'How are you, Daphne?'

'Fine.' She smiled at him over her shoulder. 'How's the the hunting of the bad guys going?'

'Splendidly.' Newly promoted Head Auror Ronald Bilius Weasley grinned. He let go of her to exchange slaps on the back with Harry, put his hand on Harry's shoulder and drew him aside. His mouth near Harry's ear, he told him something in a low voice. Over all the noise in the room she couldn't even understand a faint murmur. However, his uncharacteristic secretiveness and the rapid movements of Ron's lips made it clear that the topic of their conversation was of importance.

Harry's head was bowed in polite attention as he listened to his best friend. Suddenly, his head jerked around to Ron, and his posture became rigid. His eyes, alight with anticipation of an evening of socialising with their friends only seconds before, became guarded, and he took a deep breath. His shoulders sagged, and the tension left his body.

Daphne's eyes widened and she drew in a sharp breath. What was that about? Was it about Malfoy? The papers had been buzzing with the news about his petition for clemency this week. Harry had been concerned about the threat to their safety a Malfoy out of prison might pose for them and the safety of their friends. Or - had Ron come across new evidence about the death of her parents and sister? She scrutinised Harry's face, but it didn't give anything away.

Of course not; he had come a long way from the boy who wore his heart on his sleeve during their Hogwarts days. The war, and years of training as the successor to her father at Crystal Fairy Beauty Products, had seen to that, not to mention the last two years once the fate of the company had been in his hands.

He had learned to guard his emotions and expressions until his bland, polite façade hardly gave any of his thoughts away when he negotiated with business partners on behalf of their company, or had to suffer through a distinguished, yet boring party where they had to be seen. It had been much easier for her to deal with him in those early days. Nowadays, though, even she had problems to guess what he was thinking.

Harry gave Ron a nod and murmured something to him. His eyes scanned the mingling crowds. Had he found who he was looking for? There was no telling; his face didn't let on. He took a sip of his champagne, turned back to Ron and said something that made the lanky redhead laugh.

Hermione's hand on her arm demanded her attention. Daphne averted her eyes from her husband and looked at her friend.

She worried her lower lip between her teeth: a typical Hermione gesture that betrayed she had something on her mind that disturbed her. They had been friends for almost ten years, and she knew all of Hermione's mannerisms by now.

'Ginny's back,' Hermione said in a low voice.

The dizziness returned in a heartbeat. Daphne closed her eyes for a split second to keep her outward calm. Who would've thought she'd ever be thankful for all the hard times her governess had given her? Miss Ogden had been a Squib, but she came from a Pureblood family, and she had drilled into her that a lady always kept her countenance, no matter whether the cook spoiled the dinner or she just learned that her husband's first love had returned.

Ginny Weasley was the highest paid Quidditch player in the world, a dazzling beauty, model, and darling to the press. She had gone to the USA and joined the Taos Tornados right after the war. She'd become their star chaser during her first season and had catapulted the team to the top of the league. She'd not once looked back after she'd left England.

Not many people now remembered that she had been Harry's first girlfriend. Even fewer people knew that she and Harry hadn't broken up of their own free will.

'Since when?' she asked, and looked for her glass of champagne. She needed something to hold on to right now.

'Since yesterday, apparently. Ron and I didn't find out until we arrived at the Weasleys tonight and met her and her date.' Hermione grimaced. 'Molly had no idea that she planned on returning home. She couldn't make up her mind whether she was delighted, or annoyed at Ginny that yet another of her marriages failed. This time, she and Arthur didn't even get to meet the groom once.'

Daphne suppressed a snort. Over the last decade, Ginny had been one of the hottest topics of wizarding news all over the world. The minority of articles had been about her prowess as a chaser. The majority had dealt with the path of destruction she had left in the hearts of the male part of the American magical societie's upper class.

'Well, I can't blame Mrs Weasley. It's hard to keep track, isn't it? Remind me again, how many times she's been married and divorced a short time later?'

Hermione sighed. 'It was her fourth divorce, not to mention the two engagements that she broke up.'

'She has quite the record,' Daphne said.

Her friend flicked her tongue over her lips and gave her a quick glance. 'You're taking it remarkably well.'

Daphne almost rolled her eyes at Hermione. What did Hermione expect? That she would throw a temper tantrum on the night every eye of the magical world was turned on her and Harry? That she would let on how much she feared that Harry still harboured feelings for his ex? She wouldn't do any of that, nor would she quietly roll to the side, should Ginny decide to force herself back into Harry's life. Drat, as close as the Potters and the Weasleys were, it was going to be impossible to avoid her. The tightness in her skull intensified.

All of a sudden, Harry's untypical reaction made only too much sense.

Aloud she said, 'Hermione, Harry broke up with Ginny ten years ago. I trust my husband.'

Who was she fooling?

A warm smile appeared on Hermione's face, and she gave Daphne a quick hug. 'Of course you do: Harry worships the very ground you walk on.'

A sharp pain flashed through Daphne. Her eyes stung, and she bit hard on her lower lip. She was not going to burst out into tears about Hermione's words. Her friend had no idea what she was talking about.

But how to answer to that? Her stomach balled into a tight knot when she thought of Ginny's return, and what it might imply. The doors to the ballroom opened and relieved her of an answer. Hermione gave her a last glance and an encouraging smile that indicated that they would talk about this again later, and turned around to look for her husband.

'I think it's time to go into the ballroom,' Harry said into her ear. He had materialised beside her and put his arm around her waist.

Daphne melted once more into his side. She would never get tired of him holding her close. She took a look around. The guests had begun to amble towards the ballroom. Minister Shacklebolt and his wife left their post at the entrance and came over to them.

Together, the three couples strolled to the ballroom. Daphne pretended to listen to Kingsley and Harry's conversation about the latest bill pertaining to equal rights for Muggleborns which Kingsley had tried to introduce with Harry's help. Her mind still reeled with Hermione's revelations.

Last month's _Prophet_ had been full with the news about Ginny's latest divorce, and speculated in screaming headlines about who would be her next victim. They had linked her name to a number of powerful and rich American wizards. Nobody had known that Ginny was planning a return back home. What could the still backward British magical society have to offer to her after her many exciting years in the USA?

The breath caught in her throat. The answer was obvious, wasn't it?

Harry Potter.

The hairs on her arms stood up. Why did she feel as if somebody walked over the space where her grave would be?

 _t.b.c._


	3. Chapter 01

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Again, many thanks to Shygui for editing this. You are amazing!

* * *

 **Part One**

 **May 1998 - December 1998**

* * *

 **1**

 _ **The Burrow, May 1998**_

There is no happily ever after. Life's a bitch, and it'll come back to bite you sooner or later.

Until three weeks ago, Harry Potter would've agreed with this statement from the bottom of his heart. If anyone had first hand experience with the mean tricks life could play, it was him. Who else on this planet had the Killing Curse cast twice on them by Voldemort himself and lived to tell the tale?

However, on that sunny late afternoon at the end of May 1998 Harry had something better to occupy his time than reminiscing about the past. The sun was just about to disappear behind Stoatshead Hill and sent long, golden rays into the orchard behind _The Burrow_.

The old apple trees in full bloom glowed in a breathtaking shade of pink in the light of the burgeoning sunset, and the light evening breeze carried their sweet smell across the orchard and showered the young couple in the lush grass under the trees with snowy white petals. Harry trailed a line of soft kisses down the jawbone and the throat of the girl in his arms, and nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck.

'Don't you dare give me a love bite, Harry!' Ginny bent her neck away from him as far as possible, and glared at him. In the evening sun her red hair, tousled from their snogging session, looked as if it was on fire.

'You never complained while we were at Hogwarts.' He propped his head on his hand and gave her a lopsided grin.

Ginny sat up and straightened her rumpled shirt. 'That was completely different. At Hogwarts, my mother wasn't watching my every step with eagle-eyes.'

Harry frowned. Damn, why didn't that grin work anymore? 'I knew we should've gone to Australia with Ron and Hermione.'

Ginny shook her head. 'She wouldn't have let me. She -'

The clang of a gong reverberated through the balmy spring air and interrupted her mid sentence.

'Speaking of your mum…' Harry made a face and scrambled to his feet. 'I love her to bits, but her timing is just a tad off.' He grabbed the two brooms that leaned against the trunk of a tree near them and handed one to Ginny. Quidditch practise for Ginny's upcoming tryouts with several big clubs had been their excuse this afternoon to escape Molly Weasley's watchful eyes.

Ginny took the broom from him, shouldered it, and grabbed it by its handle with one hand. Harry mirrored her movement and held his free hand out to her. Hand in hand they ambled back to the crooked house in the untidy garden beyond the orchard.

As they reached the back door that led to the kitchen, Harry let go of Ginny's hand to open the door for her when a soft rustle of feathers made him look up.

A brown-black eagle owl landed on his free shoulder. It gave him an imperious gaze with its amber coloured, unblinking eyes, and held its leg out to him. A cream white envelope, made out of heavy, hand made paper, was tied to it.

Harry leaned his broom against the wall of the house and untied the ribbon that fastened the letter to the owl's leg. 'Do you want to come inside and have a drink and some owl treats? I bet Errol wouldn't mind sharing.'

The owl hooted and turned its head. It gave Harry an affectionate nip to the earlobe and took off.

'Oh, well, I guess that means no. Have a good flight home, then.' Harry chuckled and looked down at the envelope in his hand. His name was written on it in an elegant, but unfamiliar handwriting. He turned the letter: there was no sender's name on the back.

Ginny looked over his shoulder. 'Who sent you a letter?'

'I have no idea.' He let his wand slip out of the invisible holster on his right forearm. It was a present he'd got from the Auror corps right after the Battle of Hogwarts, together with the demand to sign up for the Auror Academy the upcoming September.

As if he'd ever think of doing anything else. Too many Death Eaters and Snatchers had escaped after the Battle. He had a job to finish… Right now, however, he had to find out if the letter in his hands carried any unpleasant surprises. He moved his wand across the envelope in a complicated pattern. During the last three weeks he'd become proficient in casting detection spells on his mail, up to the point where he could do it without even moving his lips.

The envelope emitted a soft, green glow.

'It's safe,' Harry said. 'Let's go inside and have a look at it.' He held the door open for Ginny.

She slipped into the kitchen and sat down on the bench at the scrubbed white table. Harry followed her and closed the back door behind himself.

Mrs Weasley stirred the iron cauldron over the fire with a long, wooden spoon. A delicious smell wafted from it through the homely kitchen of the Burrow, and Harry's stomach gave an appreciative growl.

At the noise of the closing door Mrs Weasley looked up. 'Ah, there you are. Ginny, please set the table.'

Ginny pouted, but stood up anyway and did as her mother told her.

At the head of the table, Mr Weasley lowered the _Daily Prophet_ and smiled at his daughter and her boyfriend. 'Good evening, Ginny, Harry.'

'Evening, dad,' Ginny said. She put a bowl in front of him and kissed him on the top of his bald head.

'Good evening, Mr Weasley,' Harry said, his attention focused on the envelope in his hands. He tore the letter open with his fingers, pulled a folded sheet of the same paper as the envelope out of it, unfolded the letter, and looked at the signature at the bottom.

Cyrus Greengrass. He'd never met anyone by that name. Wait, wasn't there a Greengrass in his year? A girl; Daphne, if his memory didn't deceive him. However, he had problems coming up with a face that matched the name. Greengrass had been one of those rare, quiet Slytherins who tended to keep in the background. At least she'd never picked on him -.

'Who wrote to you?'

Ginny's voice startled him out of his thoughts. She had finished setting the table and had slipped into the seat beside him. Her chin on his shoulder, she peeked at the letter in his hand.

'Cyrus Greengrass,' he said, and turned his head to look at her.

Her eyebrows went up at that. 'What does he want from you?'

'No idea. Why don't you let me read the letter and I'll find out?'

She gave him a light slap over his head with the palm of her hand and pulled her chin from his shoulder.

Harry chuckled and began to read his letter. It was short and to the point.

 _Dear Mr Potter,_

 _I kindly ask you to meet me at your earliest convenience to discuss a few matters pertaining to your inheritance from your grandfather Fleamont Potter's Estate._

 _Yours sincerely_

 _Cyrus Greengrass_

Harry looked up. 'He wants to talk to me about an inheritance from my grandfather.'

Ginny's head whipped around. There was a strange gleam in the depth of her chocolate brown eyes. 'An inheritance from your grandfather?'

He just shrugged in lieu of a response and folded the letter.

Mrs Weasley pointed her wand at the cauldron and levitated it to the table. She sat down opposite of her husband and frowned. 'The Greengrass are a dark family and were in league with Voldemort. He might lure you into a trap. I hope you don't answer his letter, Harry.' Another flick of her wand animated the ladle to serve lentil soup into the bowls on the table.

Harry lowered his head. He'd have loved to hear more about his grandfather. He never even knew that his first name had been Fleamont. What kind of name was that, anyway? Had his great-grandparents been heavy on potions when they named their innocent baby? At that thought a grin spread over his face, only to be replaced with a frown the next second. He'd never know; if the Greengrass were a dark family, he'd better keep away from them.

Mr Weasley folded his newspaper and put it on the end of the wooden bench. He grabbed his spoon and dipped it into his bowl of lentil soup. 'The Greengrass' aren't dark, Harry,' he said, and sent a frown into the direction of his wife. 'They are what we call a grey family. That means they've been neutral in both wars. They had other fish to fry, I guess.

'They have a thriving business in beauty potions and products, and also keep business connections in the Muggle world. That should be enough evidence that they're not in league with Voldemort, I would think. Cyrus Greengrass is an honourable man. He's got a seat on the Wizengamot and is known not to be corrupt. He's got the reputation that he's always true to his word.'

'But -' Mrs Weasley said.

A rare hard stare from her husband shut her up. He turned his head and gave Harry a broad smile. 'There's really nothing about the Greengrass' that speaks against meeting Cyrus, Harry. So, why don't you write him after dinner and tell him you'll meet with him tomorrow morning?'

A sudden lightness overcame Harry, and he let out a breath. He was going to find out more about his grandfather, after all. 'That's what I'll do. Thank you, Mr Weasley,' he said, and dug into his lentil soup.

 _t.b.c._


	4. Chapter 02

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** A heartfelt thank you to Shygui for editing this chapter. You have no idea how helpful your comments are!

Since most of you are unhappy with the short chapters, I decided to change my schedule and post at least 3k words on every scheduled posting day. This means you're going to get three chapters today. Enjoy.

* * *

 _ **Salem, Massachussets, May 1998**_

 **2**

The voice of the officiator seemed to drone on and on as he performed the funeral service.

The late May sun cast the ancient cemetery in a hot, blazing light, and the young man squinted. Lichen-covered, ancient tombstones jutted out of the still sparse grass of the cemetery like crooked teeth and glinted white in the light of the merciless sun. The cemetery was proof of the proud magical heritage of the small town by the ocean. It was surrounded by busy streets, but thanks to strong silencing charms all that could be heard was the sound of birdsong coming from the trees that lined the cemetery - and the never ending monologue of the officiator, of course.

What a sick joke that they had to lay to rest the strongest man he'd ever known on a beautiful spring day like this. If there was any justice in the world, the skies should've opened today and cried, instead of mocking them with that unbearable display of spring beauty. He bit back an unmanly tear.

The dead weight of the woman clinging to his left arm didn't do anything to make him feel better. He looked down at her. When had she become so small? He used to look up at her, and cower in front of her displeasure. That wasn't that long ago, was it? But today nothing of the strong, taciturn woman he remembered was left. She was covered from head to toe in thick, black widow's veils. Her shoulders were hunched, and her body was wracked with grief for her husband.

He turned his head away, as if something indecent had offended his eyes. His gaze came to rest on the gleaming mahogany coffin that was suspended by Hovering Charms over the open grave. The clean, sweet smell of fresh soil reached his nostrils, and he gulped down a bitter taste in his mouth. Soon, Father would become a part of that soil...

What a waste! Father had been in the prime of his life when he was killed, fighting for their valiant cause. He had given up so much for his dream. Cast out by his family for his beliefs, he had fled from his home country. Alone and penniless, he was stranded in a foreign country until his mother found him. When the Dark Lord had risen again and rallied his forces, he had returned to England, ready to resume his rightful place and demand the birthright that he had been denied.

The droning voice of the officiator came to a halt, and the man gave him a nod.

The young man pulled his wand out of the pocket of his robes, cancelled the Hovering Charms on the coffin of his father and Levitated the coffin to its final resting place. Thus was the tradition for the oldest son of a magical house. Father would be proud of him.

Sweat trickled down his spine between his shoulder blades. The blazing sunshine melted the cobwebs of grief in his brain like fog. His course of action was clear, wasn't it?

He would avenge Father's death. Those who'd condemned him and those who were responsible for his death would pay. He'd obliterate his uncle and his family from the face of this earth, and he'd kill Harry Potter.

 _t.b.c._


	5. Chapter 03

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** A big thank you to Shygui for editing this chapter. Thank you for all the hard work you put into this story.

* * *

 _ **Diagon Alley, May 1998**_

 **3**

Ginny Apparated to the public Apparition point near her final destination without a sound. The year of constant mortal danger had done wonders for her magical skills, not to mention that she'd had a fantastic teacher who taught her to survive, in spite of the restrictions of underage magic.

She looked around, her wand in her hand, ready to strike if attacked. Diagon Alley was dark and quiet at this hour of the night. The shops were closed, and the throngs of wizards and witches who populated the place during the business hours were all asleep in their own beds. Her heart hammered in her chest. Thank Morgana, nobody had ever seen her - yet. The sooner she got off the street, the better.

The rubber soles of her battered trainers made no sound as she hurried down the cobblestone street towards a small house at the end of the business district. It had a bakery on the ground floor, and the first floor, directly under the thatched roof, housed a small flat. The curtains were drawn shut on the window that looked out onto Diagon Alley. The warm light of a lamp shone through the fabric.

Ginny slipped into a narrow passage between the bakery and the adjoining house. It ended in a small backyard. From there, a steep staircase led up to the upstairs flat. She flew up the stairs. At the landing, she drew a deep breath and raised her hand to knock on the door.

The door opened before her knuckles connected with the dark wood, and two strong arms pulled her inside. She flung her arms around the neck of the young man in front of her and never heard the door close behind her as his lips descended on hers. He deepened the kiss, and she melted against his broad, muscular chest. Heat pooled in her belly, and her legs threatened to give out under the sweet torture of his tongue. He pressed himself against her. His undeniable excitement added more fuel to the fire in her veins. She moaned and let her hands slide down his smooth chest to the zipper of his jeans.

He chuckled. 'Impatient, aren't we?' The next second he picked her up, bridal style, and carried her to the huge four poster bed that dominated the tiny one-room-flat.

She dragged him with her as he lowered her onto the silver sheets. His mouth was on hers again, and his hands were everywhere. The heat in her belly intensified, and she was as eager as he to dispose of their clothes until there was nothing anymore that separated their bodies. Her world shrunk to the feeling of his skin against hers, his kisses and his hands pleasuring her in a way nobody else could. He had the power to make her forget everything, even to make her forget her own name, until she cried out in ecstasy.

'I missed you,' she said, pressed against him in the afterglow of their passion.

'That was obvious.' His dark eyes mocked her. 'I take it that Potter isn't as accomplished a lover as I am?'

She snorted. 'Oh, aren't we full of ourselves tonight?' She ran a hand through his dark, messy hair and kissed him. 'I'll have you know that Harry treats me with the utmost respect.'

He laughed out loud. 'What a pathetic wanker. Did he never try to cop a feel?'

'Oh, that he did, but I made pretty clear that this was beyond boyfriend privileges. To get more, he'll have to put a shiny bauble on my finger.'

His gaze became calculating. 'When do you think he will propose?'

'At Christmas, at the latest. His hormones will be driving him crazy by then.'

They broke out into laughter.

'So, you'll be Mrs Harry Potter around this time next year,' he said, and pressed his lips into a thin, flat line.

She palmed his cheek in her hand and turned his head towards her. 'There's no need to be jealous, love,' she said, and kissed him. 'After all, we developed this plan together. Only a couple of years after that, and I can divorce him and leave with a big chunk of his fortune.' Her voice adopted a pitiful tone. 'He owes me that, since I'm going to give up my promising Quidditch career to bear his children.'

His mouth quirked into a half-hearted smile at her antics. 'Yeah, the Potter fortune is vast, my contact at Gringotts assured me, though I have no idea where it comes from.'

She made herself more comfortable on his shoulder. 'Today, Harry got a letter from one Cyrus Greengrass. He wrote he had to talk to Harry about his inheritance from his grandfather's estate on the Potter side.'

His muscles tensed under her body. 'Cyrus Greengrass, you say? The Greengrass family owns Crystal Fairy Beauty Products. They sell their beauty potions worldwide, and dabble in the Muggle beauty market, too. They are Galleons-billionaires. There's always been talk about a silent partner, however. I wonder if that's Potter.'

Her index finger trailed lazy circles on his chest. 'Well, in that case he isn't going to miss the money I'll take with me.'

He lifted her chin with his finger and looked into her eyes. 'Aren't you feeling a little pity for the way we're going to treat him? I mean, you've pined for him ever since you came to Hogwarts, and everyone could see you were over the moon as he made you his girlfriend last year.'

The muscles in her neck stiffened. Why did he have to bring that up right now? She narrowed her eyes at him. 'That might have been the case before he left me. You were there last year; you saw what the Carrows did to me because of him. I'd be dead if you hadn't stepped in and saved me from their torture, all whilst the golden boy-wonder was saving the world. He owes me, don't you think?' She hated how bitter her voice sounded.

He held up his hands to placate her. 'Whoa, don't rip my head off. It's only … I wish I wasn't poor and that I could give you the good life you deserve without having to resolve to dirty tactics like this.'

She relaxed and chuckled. 'A snake with moral qualms. I never would've thought that possible.' She raised her head and looked him straight into the eyes. 'You know everything about how poor my family is, love. I don't want to end up like my mother, forever worrying about money, and sometimes not even knowing where the next meal will come from. I want a good life. I want to become rich, and then I want to marry you and have your children. If that means messing around with the Chosen One, so mote it be.'

 _t.b.c._


	6. Chapter 04

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Many thanks to Shygui who sacrificed his breaks to edit this chapter. You rock!

* * *

 **4**

 _ **The Rectory, May 1998**_

Daphne Greengrass stood in the light and airy hallway in front of the door to her father's study. The cold of the stone floor permeated through the thin sole of her ballet flats, but she didn't care. Her heart hammered in her chest. What did he want from her? Had she done something to attract his displeasure? She racked her brain, but came up empty.

She wiped the sweaty palms of her hands on the sides of her robes and took a deep breath. There was no use putting off the inevitable. She raised her hand and knocked. The noise sounded hollow in her ears.

'Come in,' Father's gruff voice said from inside.

She opened the door and slipped into the study. 'You wanted to talk to me, Father?'

The small room was orderly and nondescript. A row of custom made mahogany bookcases and filing cabinets dominated the wall to her right. The matching desk was positioned in an exact right angle to the bookcases. The desk itself was empty, except for a black leather desk pad, a silver inkwell and a flat, carved tray made out of some black, tropical wood that held an immaculate eagle-feather quill. The walls were as bare as the desk; no picture adorned them.

However, no one except Father and her knew about the secrets the gleaming filing cabinets kept, and she was sure she knew not even half of them.

Father sat behind his desk, his back pointed to the window that looked out onto the enclosed garden with its colourful flower beds, as if he didn't want anything to distract him. He leaned back in his chair, his hands steepled in front of him. His bland face didn't give away his feelings, but one look into his calm, warm eyes told her that she wasn't in trouble - at least not yet.

He motioned with his hand to the high backed, wooden visitor chairs in front of his desk. 'Sit down, Daphne.'

She obeyed, mindful to keep her upper body upright and not to lean against the back of the chair, as her governess had taught her, and folded her hands in her lap.

'I asked the Potter heir to meet me today, and he accepted my offer.'

Her heart jumped back into her throat. Why did he have to bring up Harry? Of course, she knew about the connection between their families, and she had even tried to get near him at Hogwarts because of that.

Unfortunately, "tried" was the operative word in that sentence. Malfoy's petty reaction to the rejection he'd received from Harry on the train, and that had become the talk of Slytherin house within hours, had seen to that. Who would've thought that Crabbe and Goyle were such gossips? And who would've thought that a future Slytherin barged into his first conversation with the Boy-Who-Lived with as much tact as a Gryffindor?

However, between Malfoy's idiocy and Weasley's jealousy it had been impossible for her to get near Harry, even if she had been as daring and outgoing as Pansy. Instead, she had to watch him from afar as he bumbled through six years of magical education.

His ignorance of their culture and his heritage were obvious from the first day on. Oh, how she had longed to help him. She would've kept him out of the hair-raising adventures that seemed to find him each year - or at least made sure he'd employ some of the admittedly little common sense he had before he jumped into the fray.

Not that she minded his rash temper. She had caution and common sense enough for both of them."Obsessing about Potter" Astoria had called it, whenever she ranted to her about Harry's latest narrow escape. Astoria had no idea. She was already beyond obsessing. She knew that since her fourth year, when she had cried herself to sleep the night after Harry's escape from Voldemort. She'd devoted herself to him, body and soul.

'I'm going to suggest a marriage contract between him and and you,' Father said.

Her heart thumped hard, and her hand flew to her chest. 'You're going to do what?' Her voice sounded higher than normal. He was taking the mickey, wasn't he?

Of course not. Father never made jokes.

His gaze was still calm and warm as he pondered her reaction. 'I always had the impression you weren't indifferent to him, Daphne.'

Oh, great, found out by her own father. How embarrassing could it get? She lowered her head to hide her hot cheeks behind her long hair, and bit on her lips.

Thanks to the excellent training she had received from her governess she regained her composure after drawing a few, deep breaths, and raised her head. 'That's beside the point, Father. You'll need to count his feelings into the equation. Last I heard was he had a girlfriend he loves very much. It's more likely he'll propose to her, and not to me.'

There, she had voiced her objections, and even kept calm and collected while doing so. It was not easy to disagree with Father. Daphne sat a little more upright and puffed out her chest.

Father let out a low chuckle. He leaned forward, his forearms on the desk pad, and gave her an amused look. 'I know about that girl, Daphne. Do you think I'm going into an important meeting without the necessary preparation?'

Of course not; Father was always prepared. It was the secret to his success. She shook her head.

'I thought so,' Father said. 'She's his first girlfriend, I've been told. Nobody ends up marrying his first girlfriend, I assure you. I'm going to explain the advantages of a connection between our families to him. I'm sure he doesn't want to miss out on that opportunity.'

Maybe Father wasn't prepared as well as he thought. There was no way Harry would agree to this plan, even if he didn't love the Weaselette as much as he did. Harry wasn't corruptible; as Father would find out soon.

At the moment, however, he was still far from believing that his plan could fail. 'When that's the case, I expect that you'll fulfill your duty to the family and accept his offer.'

As if that would ever happen. The day pigs could fly, maybe. 'Of course I will, Father,' she said. Father didn't like opposition within his family. There was no point aggravating him about something that wouldn't come to pass, anyway.

Father gave her one of his rare smiles. 'I knew you would. You are a good daughter, Daphne. Now, you're excused. I expect Potter to show up any second. It wouldn't do for the two of you to run into each other at this stage.'

Daphne rose from her chair and left the room. She closed the door behind herself and took a deep breath. The next second she hurried down the hallway, oblivious to the indignant shouts of the many family portraits that protested her uncouth behaviour. Her leather soles skidded on the smooth stone floor as she turned around to climb up the stairs, and she had to grab the carved pillar at the end of the bannister to prevent herself from falling flat on her face. She flew up the stairs, taking two steps at a time, until she reached the second floor. Her breath puffed, and she didn't take the time to announce herself as she barged into Astoria's room.

Astoria sat at the window that overlooked the park and worked on her embroidery. At Daphne's unceremonious entrance she put her work into the basket on the small table beside her and turned around her wheelchair with a practised move of her hands.

'What's got your knickers in a twist, Daphne?' Nothing but a raised brow betrayed her amused astonishment. Astoria had inherited her poker face from their father, together with his piercing teal coloured eyes and his dark hair.

'Father … Harry …" A coughing fit overcame Daphne, and she couldn't finish the sentence.

'I should've known it had to do with Potter. Nothing makes you lose your composure as quickly and as completely as that boy.'

Daphne raised her head and glared at her sister, still too out of breath to give her the angry retort that was at the tip of her tongue. She leaned with her back against the smooth wood of the door and tried to catch her breath.

Astoria gave her another quirk of her eyebrow and clicked her fingers.

Their house elf appeared beside her wheelchair. 'What can Matty do for Missy Tori?'

'Please, bring us some lemon water, Matty,' Astoria said.

Matty bowed and vanished. Only seconds later she returned. She had a silver tray in her hand, with a pitcher of water, a plate of lemon slices and two tall glasses on it. She put the tray onto a table within easy reach for Astoria.

'Thank you, that's all, Matty.'

Matty bowed again and disappeared.

Astoria moved her wheelchair to the table. She put a slice of lemon into one of the glasses and filled it with water. Then she picked up her wand from her lap and Levitated the glass towards Daphne.

Daphne grabbed the glass and emptied it with a few, deep gulps. 'Thank you, 're a lifesaver.' She pushed herself off the door with her shoulders, walked towards the chair that stood beside the table, and put the empty glass back on the tray. 'Father's going to propose a marriage contract between Harry and me,' she said, and plopped down into the chair.

'Congratulations, sister. You must be over the moon.'

Daphne glared at her. 'Please, don't act like a prick, Tori. You know as good as I that it'll never happen. Harry's in love with the Weaselette.'

Astoria didn't look up from the glass of lemon water she was preparing for herself. 'Yeah, but for how much longer? You saw what the Weaselette did last year.'

'I saw nothing, Astoria.'

Astoria put the pitcher back onto the tray with more force than necessary. 'Come on, Daph. You're fooling yourself. She lived in his room from September to the beginning of the Easter holidays.'

'He did it to protect her from the wrath of the Carrows, Tori. For all we know he might have acted like the perfect gentleman towards her,' she said.

'Hogwarts' biggest man-whore? I know that you tend to believe only the best of people, sis, but even you can't be as naïve as that.' Astoria's eyes mocked her over the rim of her glass.

Daphne sighed and leaned back into the chair. 'I'm not that naïve, thank you very much for the flowers, Tori. But I've also seen how Harry looks at her. He loves her.'

Astoria put the glass on the table. 'So, you're letting him run into his doom to make him happy? You've got a strange notion of love, dear sister.'

Daphne pushed a stray lock of hair out of her face. 'We were at war last year, Tori. People did things they normally wouldn't have done because of that. You and I have no idea what the Weaselette had to do to survive. We're certainly not in the place to judge her. Whatever happened or did not happen, it's between her and Harry. Besides that, she and Harry split up at the end of my sixth year, so technically she was free to do as she pleased.'

As if Harry was going to do a one-eighty degree turn and fall in love with her if she ran to him and tattled on the Weaselette. It was more likely that he'd hate the bearer of the bad news forever.

Astoria snorted at that. 'You believed that? Get real, Daphne, everyone knew it was one of Potter's noble gestures to take the heat off her. It was plain to see that it killed both of them. Well, in her case only until she found someone to comfort her. So, stop being bloody noble.'

'I'm not noble. I'm trying to be rational about the situation, as any good Slytherin should be.' She reached for the pitcher and poured herself another glass of water.

'Good for you.' Astoria gave her a small smile. 'How is it that your rational side didn't tell you that Potter doesn't love the little hussy?'

'What?' Daphne's hand with the glass in it stopped midway between the table and her mouth. 'Tori, I've seen how he looks at her.'

'So have I,' Astoria said. 'He's not in love with her, he's infatuated with her, Daph. There's more to love than a mutual love for Quidditch and some snogging. That's all those two have in common. One day he'll wake up and see that he kissed the wrong princess.'

Daphne took a sip of her water. 'That's his decision to make, Tori.' Her heart was a heavy stone in her chest. Even if Harry separated from the Weaselette, he'd never fall in love with her. Harry liked beautiful, athletic girls, who shared his love for Quidditch and had a fiery personality. Both Chang and the Weaselette fitted right into that. She, on the other hand - was nothing like that.

Astoria huffed. 'I thought you loved him.'

'I love him enough to want him to be happy, sis. If he fails, I'll be there to pick up the pieces - if he lets me.'

 _t.b.c._


	7. Chapter 05

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's Notes:** Thank you to Shygui for all your hard work you put in this story.

* * *

 ** _The Rectory, May 1998_**

 **5**

The Portkey Cyrus Greengrass had sent that morning in reply to his letter dropped Harry in front of an ornate, white, wooden gate. Only his excellent seeker reflexes let him grab for the handle of the gate and prevented him from falling on his arse.

The handle vibrated under his touch, and the gate swung open. Harry almost lost his balance for a second time because of the unexpected movement, and cursed. He took a look around to get his bearings. To the left and right of him a lonely country road stretched into both directions. No human dwelling could be seen, which wasn't unusual, since most wizard and witches tended to live as far away from Muggles as possible.

Ahead of him, a yellow brick coachway meandered through what seemed to be a small forest.

Harry raised his eyebrows. 'Really?' A chuckle welled up in him. Had someone in the Greengrass family read the _Wizard of Oz_? If yes, he or she had a sense of humour. A point in favour of the Greengrasses: he yet had to come across any humorous Death Eaters.

He walked up the coachway. Behind him, the front gate clicked shut. The house couldn't be seen from here. How far would he have to walk? Merlin give not too far. His battered trainers had seen better days and looked as if they were about to fall apart. There hadn't been time yet to go shopping, not to mention that he still had to sort out with Gringotts the conditions of access to his vault after the break-in. Somehow, he doubted the Goblins would let him waltz into their bank and do business as usual.

At least his robes looked decent. A grudging Mrs Weasley had washed and ironed one of his school robes from sixth year, though he had lost that much weight during his time on the run that the robes hung down from his shoulders as if from a scarecrow. He'd made sure Mrs Weasley hadn't noticed how thin he had become: a few strategically placed Glamour Charms and Illusion Charms took care of that.

When she returned from Australia, Hermione would be amazed about what he had picked up during all those endless hours they went over their books again and again in the hope to find something that would help them to survive.

He turned around a bend in the coachway and stopped in his tracks.

'Woah!'

The small forest had given way to a south facing park. In front of him, a lake glittered in the morning sun. A white pavillion beckoned from a small island in the middle of the lake. To the left, at the northern end of the park, sprawled an impressive white manor. The coachway led straight towards it.

Harry took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and marched on. Thank Merlin, the coachway still was shaded by the trees and shrubbery that was planted alongside the eastern boundary of the estate, or he would've been cooked alive in his black school robes, despite the Cooling Charms he had cast on himself.

The coachway swerved to the left, away from the park and the house, and around a small grove with a pond. It ended on a circular place. To his left stood a hut; it could have been a twin to Hagrid's hut in Hogwarts, only that it was painted green. In front of him a gravelled path seemed to lead into an orchard. He could make out Quidditch hoops above treetops in full bloom. Another point in favour of the Greengrass family. To the right, an iron gate in a high, red brick wall led to the manor.

He walked towards the gate and put his hand on the handle. As he had expected, the handle vibrated under his touch. This time, he was ready for the gate to swing open for him.

A broad, gravelled path, lined by huge cypresses, led to the main entrance of the house. The cypresses provided a privacy screen for the patios in front of the western and the eastern wing of the house. The side wings, as well as the backside of the house, were all done in the same red brick as the high wall that sheltered the house from the northern winds.

Harry walked towards the main entrance. The door opened before he had reached it, and an elf, clad in a green linen toga, bowed before him.

'Master ordered to bring the great Harry Potter to him the moment he arrives,' the elf said.

'Thank you, that's very kind of you. What's your name?'

The head of the small creature jerked up. 'The great Harry Potter asks Matty for her name.' Matty sounded amazed, although not as overwhelmed as poor Dobby had been. Harry examined her from the corner of his eyes. She looked well fed, healthy and clean, and while her demeanour was deferential, she showed no signs of fear. A third point in favour of the Greengrass family.

Matty led him through a vestibule into a broad, airy hallway with a high ceiling. The walls were lined with portraits of wizards and witches in ancient looking robes: the Greengrass ancestors, no doubt. At the sight of him, whispering ensued. A sweet smell permeated the air, and Harry looked around for the source. His gaze fell on a spindle-legged table, and a silver bowl on it that was filled to the brim with rose petals under an Everlasting Charm.

Matty knocked at a door left of the vestibule. A gruff voice called them to come in, and Matty opened the door for Harry.

Harry stepped into the room and was stopped by a huge desk as soon as he had crossed the threshold. For someone as rich and as influential as Cyrus Greengrass, his private office was tiny.

The man behind the desk was as bland as his office: dark, receding hair and a clean shaved face with amiable, yet not remarkable features. His eyes, however, were different. A strange mix of blue and green, they seemed to see to the bottom of his soul. Was the man a Legilimens? He at once raised the paltry Occlumency shields he had, but the telltale probing at the outskirts of his mind never came. No Legilimens, but just an extraordinary piercing glance, then. Thank Merlin, he would've hated to have to be on guard constantly during the upcoming conversation.

Cyrus Greengrass rose from his chair and held his hand out in greeting. 'Welcome to _The Rectory,_ Mr Potter. I'm glad you responded to my letter on such short notice. We should've met no later than the day after your seventeenth birthday.'

Harry returned the handshake. 'Thank you, sir. You have no idea what it means to me to learn more about my family. But, please, call me Harry.'

'In that case, you'll have to call me Cyrus,' Mr Greengrass said, and invited him with his hand to sit down on one of the uncomfortable looking chairs in front of his desk.

Was it possible to cast a Cushioning Charm before he sat down? Better not, it would look impolite. Harry sat down on the offered chair. It was even more uncomfortable than he had feared. 'Thank you, Cyrus,' he said.

'I guess we'll be seeing a lot of each other from now on, so it's of no use to stay on formalities.' Cyrus smiled at him. It looked as if he didn't do that often, but it changed the whole man.

'At one point, I'll also introduce you to my wife and my daughters. I believe, you and my Daphne have been in the same year at Hogwarts.'

Harry nodded to that. 'Yes, but in different houses. I doubt I ever spoke to her. The house rivalries saw to that.' Not to mention that he'd been terrified to talk to girls, but Cyrus didn't need to know that.

Cyrus' face sobered. 'We've been through very dark times. Thanks to you the threat is over.'

The heat crept into Harry's cheeks. 'I was not the only one who fought, Cyrus.'

Cyrus gave him a shrewd glance. 'That's true; but you sacrificed the most, I've been told.'

Harry started. How by Merlin's saggy underpants did he know? That was classified information. Or - Was he just fishing in the dark, in the hope he'd give away information? After all he'd seen of the man he wouldn't put it past him.

'I believe you wanted to talk to me about my grandfather, Cyrus.'

Cyrus quirked an eyebrow, however, nothing in his demeanour betrayed that he acknowledged the refusal. 'Ah yes, your grandfather. Did you know he was my godfather?' He turned around and took a folder out of an filing cabinet to his left.

'Was he? I never knew. Can you tell me about him, Cyrus?' Merlin, now he sounded as eager as a house elf.

'I can do even better than that. There's a portrait of your grandfather in the conference room at Crystal Fairy's. I'd be happy to introduce you to him one day.'

'Brilliant!' Harry didn't bother to suppress the broad grin on his face.

Cyrus opened the folder in front of him. 'Back to the more pressing problems on my hands, Harry. I guess you don't know that your grandfather and my father were best friends. Together, they founded the Crystal Fairy Beauty Company, and turned it into a multi-corporated, worldwide operating business.

'It didn't take them long to branch out into the Muggle markets. Today, the bulk of the turnover comes from the Muggle part of the company. We're what the Muggles call global players in our field.' He looked at Harry as if to make sure he could follow him so far.

Harry nodded. What had that to do with him?

'I was raised to become the successor of my father. Uncle Fleamont and Aunt Euphemia, however, were childless for a very long time. They had already given up all hope for a child when your father was born, I'd just turned twenty. I became his godfather, by the way,' Cyrus said.

Harry hung on his every word. These new insights in his family's history were fantastic. He wanted to dance a happy jig here and now. Of course, that was impossible under Cyrus' stern gaze.

'Your father was the cutest rascal imaginable, and Uncle Fleamont and Aunt Euphemia spoilt him rotten.' Cyrus smiled, lost in his memories. 'In that light it's probably not amazing that James wasn't much inclined to work for the family company.

'In stark contrast to your mother, by the way. Lily was studying to become a Potions Mistress, while James devoted all his energy and his not inconsiderable income to the fight against V-Voldemort.'

Harry's head reeled. He'd had no idea that his mother wanted to become a Potions Mistress.

'Uncle Fleamont and Aunt Euphemia died in the big Dragon Pox epidemic of seventy-eight, just as my father. Your parents just got engaged back then, and you weren't even in the making.' Cyrus shot him a humorous glance.

'Uncle Fleamont was well aware what a happy-go-lucky chap James was, so he decreed in his will that James should be his heir, but not to be able to dispose of the estate before he turned thirty. He made me the executor of his estate. James wasn't able to lay his hand on any of it without my consent. Of course, he got a generous yearly livelihood out of it as soon as he got married.

'Since James was still so young, Uncle Fleamont decreed that the same rules should apply to James' children, in case James died without making his own will. Unfortunately, exactly that happened. That's why I'm still the executor of your grandfather's will, and will remain in control of his estate until you turn thirty.'

Harry gaped at him. That was a lot to take in. Too bad Hermione was still in Australia and not here with him to translate that legal mumbo-jumbo.

'I believe, you won't find me unreasonable, Harry. Of course you'll get an income from the estate. There are also a number of houses you can take your pick from to live in. But first and foremost your training to become my successor at Fairy Crystal has to be planned.'

His what? Harry sat bolt upright. He was going to become an Auror. There was no way he was going to dabble in beauty potions. Ugh, did he look like Malfoy or what? He opened his mouth to tell Cyrus just that.

Cyrus, however, didn't seem to be used to interruptions. Or he was deliberately ignoring him, and went on with his speech.

'It has been the wish of my father and your grandfather to join our families and the company shares in marriage. Unfortunately, that wasn't possible in your father's and my generation. At least, in your generation the time has come to fulfill their wish, Harry. I already talked to Daphne. She is willing to fulfill her duty to the family. I have no doubt that you'll also do what's expected of you.'

'WHAT?' Harry sprang up from his seat. 'You're taking the mickey, Cyrus.'

'Sit down. My dear boy, you'll find out that I never joke,' Cyrus said.

Harry ignored him. He ran his hands through his hair until it stood out in all directions. 'This has to be a bad joke. You can't expect me to marry a girl I've never spoken to. I have a girlfriend, for Merlin's sake, and I planned -.' He interrupted himself and bit his lips. There was no use in telling Cyrus that he planned on proposing to Ginny as soon as he was in Auror training. He wouldn't understand.

'Oh, I never said you can't keep your little … distractions once you're married, Harry.'

That was appalling. Did that man really expect him to marry his daughter and cheat on her? He turned towards the door. 'I think I've heard enough, sir.'

'If you leave this room I'll make sure that you won't get a Knut out of the estate until you turn thirty or fulfill your duty to your family, whichever comes first,' Cyrus said behind him.

Harry shrugged. His parents and Sirius had left him plenty, he surely didn't need more money on top of that. Besides that, he'd earn his own money very soon.

He opened the door and left the room, not once looking back.

 _t.b.c._


	8. Chapter 06

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's Notes:** Thank you to Shygui for editing this chapter. You are the best.

* * *

 **6**

 _ **The Rectory, May 1998**_

Cyrus Greengrass stared at the door Harry had just shut behind himself. Few had ever dared to walk out on him. Didn't the lad know what an opportunity he had presented to him on a silver platter?

He had offered him two of his three biggest treasures: one of his daughters and his life's work, and Harry had just shrugged them off. Any other young man in his circle would've grabbed the chance without hesitation. Though, none of them had Harry's raw power and strength of character that were almost palpable in each of his gestures. He could've sworn the air had crackled around the lad during his outburst. The boy didn't know it yet, but he was a born leader.

A low rumble rose in Cyrus' chest. The boy had balls, that he had to give him. Of course, he had killed Voldemort. Anyone who'd managed that feat would grow a pair. Damned, if he didn't like the boy even more for not yielding to his bidding. Daphne had good instincts. She wanted to have him, and now he'd make sure she'd get him. Any father would be proud to marry his daughter to a man like Harry.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He signaled for the door to open.

'Mister Nicky Greco, Master,' Matty said, and held the door for his visitor.

Cyrus rose from his chair. 'Nicholas, it's a pleasure to see you.'

'Likewise, Cyrus,' his visitor said. He was a man in his late fifties with reddish hair and brown eyes. Unlike Cyrus, who was clad in dark business robes, he wore a conservative Muggle suit of grey.

The two men shook hands and sat down.

'What have you found out, Nicholas?'

Nicholas Greco opened the briefcase he had brought with him and pulled a folder out of it he put on the desk in front of him. 'This is my report. It isn't much, I'm afraid. I'm sorry to tell you that your brother Dorian was among the Death Eaters who were killed at the Battle of Hogwarts.'

Cyrus slumped in his chair. He lowered his head to hide the tears from Greco that threatened to well up in his eyes. His little brother was dead; he'd never again see him. Though, realistically he'd been dead to the family for twenty-three years, ever since he made that horrible choice, and Father had cast him out. So, why did Greco's news hurt so much?

He raised his hand to rub away the pain in his chest. His hand was trembling, and he hid his hands beneath the desk. He cleared his throat. 'What about the body? Will the Ministry give it back, so that he can be buried on the family plot?' His voice sounded hoarse, and he cleared his throat once again.

Greco opened the folder in front of him and re-read some if the information he had collected. 'The bodies of the fallen Death Eaters have all been released. The body of your brother already has been claimed, I've been told.' He paged through the folder. 'Ah, here it is. It has been released to one Ms Nancy Carrington from Salem, Massachusetts. Though, she didn't turn up in person, the staff at the morgue at St Mungo's told me. She sent a young man in her stead who claimed the body. He had an American accent, but otherwise was unremarkable. Sorry I don't have more for you.'

He shut the folder and leaned back in his chair.

Silence descended on the room. Cyrus was still slumped in his chair, his head hung low, and he pondered Greco's findings.

So, that's where Dorian had disappeared to after the first wizarding war came to an end. No surprise they couldn't find a trace of him in England. Carrington … They were a prominent Pureblood family in the USA, and rumoured to be strong supporters and financial backers of "The Cause", as that damned supremacism was called over there.

Cyrus gave a derisive snort. He didn't have much patience for people like that. Any kind of -ism was bad for business, in the both the magical and Muggle worlds.

Greco interrupted his thoughts. 'Do you want me to go to Salem and find out more about the young man who claimed the body?'

Cyrus started. He shifted in his seat and leaned forward, putting his forearms on the desk pad, and bowed his head once more. Did he want Greco to find out more about his brother's life since the first wizarding war ended? The body had been released to one Nancy Carrington, so it was very likely his brother had married her at some point. What if the young man was his brother's son? Should he reach out a hand to him and reconcile the family?

Given the current political climate in England, it could be unwise to do so. He'd been a little too zealous in maintaining the neutrality of the Greengrass family during the last war, and now the political leanings of his family were being questioned by a large number of the new people in power. If the young man was a child of his brother with Nancy Carrington, he was most likely an ardent Pureblood supremacist.

No, for the sake of his family and the company he couldn't dare to seek out his brother's supposed family.

He raised his head and looked at Greco. 'Thank you, Nicholas, but I'd rather let bygones be bygones. My father cast out Dorian for a reason, and I will respect his decision.'

Greco nodded. 'I can understand that,' he said, and pushed the folder towards Cyrus. 'I guess that you'd want to keep that for future reference.'

'Right,' Cyrus said. He took the folder and put it into the filing cabinet next to his desk.

'Is that all for today?' Greco asked.

Cyrus opened his mouth to voice his affirmation, but hesitated. No actually, there was someone else he needed to be investigated.

'I have a new job for you, Nicholas. I want you to find out everything about one Miss Ginny Weasley.'

 _t.b.c._

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** Unfortunately, Nicholas Greco isn't a character of my own invention. He belongs to the Queen of Crime, the marvellous Mary Higgins Clark, and made an appearance in her novel _"I Heard That Song Before"._ I've borrowed him with the utmost respect for Mrs Clark's work. Of course, no money is being made out of this.


	9. Chapter 07

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's Notes:** A huge thsnk you to Shygui for editing this chapter. You rock!

 **7**

Harry lay in the soft, sweet smelling grass of the orchard of _The Burrow._ Above him, the first stars appeared at the clear summer sky.

Ginny snuggled up to him. 'A Knut for your thoughts.'

Harry put his arms around her and smiled at her. 'I doubt they're worth that much.'

'You'll never know before you try to sell them. What's the matter with you, Harry? You've been awfully quiet all day long. Wasn't your meeting with Mr Greengrass what you expected?'

Harry sighed. He pulled his arms away and sat up. 'Yes and no. That man's a wealth of information about my family. He was the godson of my grandfather, and my dad was his godson. But I totally botched it up when I didn't agree to his demands. I doubt he'll ever again talk to me.' He propped up his legs, encircled them with his arms, and rested his chin on his knees.

Ginny sat up beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. 'Was it that bad?' Her chocolate brown eyes searched his face.

'He wants me to become his successor in the family business and marry his daughter,' Harry said. 'You can imagine, I didn't take that kindly. That somehow cut off any further communication.'

Ginny snorted. 'Yeah, I can see that. I mean, you've wanted to become an Auror ever since your fifth year. He can't take that away from you.'

Harry smiled at her. 'Right. I also have a good idea who I want to marry someday.' His heart hammered. How would she react to his hint?

Ginny blushed, lowered her eyes with a coy smile, and turned her head away. 'What did he say when you refused his offer?'

Harry's stomach clenched. Didn't she want him? He pressed his lips together and glanced at Ginny from the corner of his eyes. She still had her face averted. In her faded jeans and her plain tshirt, her ponytail messy from the flying they'd done after dinner, she looked much younger than her sixteen years.

He was an idiot. She was still so young; of course she needed time to get used to the thought of marriage and a family. He couldn't wait for that day to come; he had dreamt about it each night when he'd been obsessing about her dot on the Marauder's Map. She'd suffered so much because of him. Each night she'd spent in the dungeons, tortured at first by the Carrows and later by one of the seventh year Slytherins. Merlin only knew what he'd done to her when he dragged her into his room night after night; he hadn't dared asking her, and she never mentioned that time. He couldn't blame her for that, no one knew better than him that there are wounds you had to keep from everyone, even those who are closest to you. He'd spend the rest of his life to make up to her for that and make her happy.

'Well, it turns out he's the executor of my grandfather's will. After our slightly heated discussion he told me I'm not going to get a single Knut out of the estate before I turn thirty, or give in to his demands, whichever comes first,' he said aloud.

Ginny's head whipped around. There was a strange expression in her eyes when she looked at him.

Harry shrugged his shoulders and grinned at her. 'I guess I'll have to wait until I'm thirty. There's no way I'm going to work for a beauty company, or marry a girl I don't know. After all, I don't need the money. There's still more than enough in my vault, and Aurors are well paid.'

'Yeah, right,' Ginny said. It looked as if she was going to say more on that topic, but any further conversation was interrupted by Mrs Weasley, who called them back to the house.

Harry rolled his eyes at Ginny, scrambled to his feet and held his hand out to her to haul her up.

When they reached the house, Mr and Mrs Weasley were just about to retire for the night. Under Mrs Weasley's watchful eyes, Harry gave Ginny a chaste goodnight kiss on the cheek, and climbed up the stairs to Ron's room, which he had all to himself since Ron had left to go to Australia with Hermione. He gathered his shower kit and a towel and went down to the family bathroom to get ready for the night.

His ablutions didn't take long. He dried his face and put his things back into his shower kit. As always, he hadn't stripped off the wandholster. He never did; the last ten months had made him more than just slightly paranoid. He slipped his wand out of the holster, cancelled the charms he had placed on himself, and scrutinised his reflection in the mirror.

His pale skin stretched too tight over his skull, and his eyes were sunken deep into their sockets. The unhealthy look was enhanced by the dark, almost black circles below his eyes. His arms seemed to be mere sticks. He looked down at himself: his legs didn't look any better, and his hip bones stood out.

Had he lost more weight in the last week? Yes, he looked even worse than directly after the Battle. His heartbeat quickened, and his already pale face turned ashen. He was eating more than enough, Mrs Weasley made sure of that. By now, he should've regained some of the weight he'd lost during the time on the run. Instead, he'd become even thinner, and felt weak and tired all the time. Thank Merlin for Pepper-Up-Potions. He wouldn't make it through the day without them.

Harry replaced the Glamour and Illusion Charms, until a healthy looking young male looked back at him from the mirror.

He opened the door and stepped out onto the hallway. He had restored his looks, however, the black thoughts stayed with him. What was happening to him? Would he make it through the Auror health exams?

He climbed up the stairs to Ron's bedroom, slipped into it and closed the door behind himself. A wave of dizziness overcame him; leaning back against the door, he clutched his arms to his chest. A new thought hit him; his chest constricted, and he had to fight for breath.

What if he was about to die?

 _t.b.c._


	10. Chapter 08

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Again, a big thank you to Shygui for editing this chapter. You have no idea how much work he puts into this. Remaining errors are mine, not his.

Chapters **8** and **9** \- 11/3/18

 **8**

Ginny pushed down the handle of her bedroom door. She pulled the door open ever so slightly and peered out into the hallway through the small gap.

The hallway was dark and quiet. No strip of light was visible at the bottom of the door to mum and dad's bedroom. Did she dare to slip out of her bedroom? Or should she wait some more, to be sure that they both were asleep? She strained her ears. The faint snores that came from the direction of mum and dad's bedroom were a sure sign that dad was sound asleep. She didn't need to worry about mum. Ever since Fred's death she took a Dreamless Sleep Potion at night.

She opened the door just wide enough to slip out into the hallway. From long experience she knew which boards of the wooden floor creaked when someone stepped on them, and how to avoid them. The part from the bathroom to the landing was tricky; almost each board in that area creaked if stepped on in the wrong way. She hesitated. Should she take the route alongside the wall of the bathroom door, or hop from board to board, leaving out the creaking boards?

The bathroom door opening took the decision from of her hands. Ginny pressed herself flat against the wall and held her breath. Her heart hammered. Harry wouldn't tell on her, but he'd want to know where she was going. While a nightly flight was a failsafe excuse, he'd want to join her, and then she wouldn't get to leave the grounds tonight.

Harry stepped out of the bathroom. He didn't look in her direction as he closed the door. The next second he turned his back on her and walked to the landing. A few seconds later the steps of the stairs to the upper floor creaked.

She waited until she heard the door to Ron's bedroom shut behind Harry. The moment the soft click echoed through the silent house, she scurried down the hallway and the stairs.

One look at his sullen face had been enough. He was brooding - again. Why couldn't he give it a rest? The war was over, for Merlin's sake. Yes, they had both lost people they loved; she was still crying for Fred at least once a day. None of her tears would bring him back; she'd accepted that. It was time to move on. Harry, it seemed, was incapable of letting go. No surprise there. He'd always brooded too much for his own good. There'd been a time when she felt attracted to that. Nowadays it was just annoying.

She left the house, ran to the gate and Apparated away. Her body tingled, and she wet her lips as she knocked on the familiar door a few minutes later. Was he at home? He didn't expect her tonight.

The door opened a small crack. The war had made them all cautious. The next second, the door was yanked open, and he pulled her inside.

'I didn't expect you tonight.' He brushed her hair out of her face and kissed her.

She was where she belonged; her world was whole again.

'I've got news about Harry and his inheritance,' she said, much later, as they laid snuggled together under the silver covers of his bed.

He searched her face with his eyes. 'That sounds as if it isn't good news then.'

She made a face at that. 'Unfortunately, you're right.'

'Tell me,' he said, and pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear.

The tender gesture melted her heart, and she turned her head and kissed his hand. She hated what she had to tell him right now.

'The Potter fortune is under executorship. Cyrus Greengrass, Merlin shrink his underpants, has his own agenda for Harry. He wants him to marry his mousy daughter, and to become his successor at the company. To ensure that Harry complies with his wishes, he informed Harry he wouldn't get any money out of the estate before he turns thirty, unless he bows to his demands.'

His face didn't move while she delivered her news. Didn't he care about them?

He took his sweet time to ponder her words. 'That's … unfortunate,' he said.

She shot bolt upright in the bed. The covers slid off her upper body and revealed her chest; she didn't care. 'Unfortunate? That's all you have to say?'

'Sorry that I don't have your inclination for drama.' He grinned at her, and his eyes roamed her body.

She let out an irritated huff, pulled the covers up to her breasts and laid back. 'Quit looking at me as if I'm your dessert.'

He turned towards her and propped his head on his hand. 'Oh, but you are, love, and a very delicious one on top of that.' The grin he gave her this time was roguish and wild.

'Prat,' she said. It sounded half-hearted in her ears. 'You'd better tell me what I'm supposed to do about Harry. Shall we pursue this plan with him or look out for another fish to catch?'

'That depends how big the other fish in the pond are, don't you agree?' He traced the outline of her jaw with the tip of his index finger. She trembled under his touch and hardly understood his next words. 'Pursuing Potter means you'll be caught in that marriage for a longer time than we estimated, but the outcome will be worth it. On the down side, he probably will be pestering you for little Potters sooner than you're ready.'

'That'll be the day hell freezes over,' she said, and shuddered. She might be a Weasley, but she had no intention of becoming a mother, if she could help it. At least not the mother of Harry's children. She looked at the young man beside her. His children, however, would be something different...

He smiled at her. There was a lot of understanding in his eyes. 'Looking for other fish means that you will have to do that marriage and divorce thing a couple of times, since there aren't many wizards as rich as Potter.'

She made a face at that. 'Great. I can already hear my mother screech into my ears. It'll be hard enough to sell one divorce to her. A couple of them means I'll be relegated to the ranks of a scarlet woman.'

Their eyes met, and they burst out laughing.

He was the first to sober. 'Better a scarlet woman than a Black Widow.'

'Yeah, probably.' She let out a deep sigh. 'I guess I'll have to put up with Harry for the foreseeable future. At least I know what I'll be getting myself into with him.'

 _t.b.c._


	11. Chapter 09

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Again, a big thank you to Shygui for editing this chapter. You rock!

Chapters **8** and **9** \- 11/3/18

 **9**

May morphed into June, and June brought the beginning of the Death Eater trials. Daphne's eyes swept over the noisy audience in the big courtroom at the Ministry of Magic. Today would be the last day of the trial of the most prominent of them, Lucius Malfoy.

His bribery and blatant contempt for anyone whom he deemed below him hadn't endeared him to the majority of the hard working wizards and witches. Almost everyone in the wizarding world was eager to see how he got his just desserts and was then carried off to Azkaban. The tiers of the courtroom were already packed to the brim, and yet there still was a huge crowd just outside of the courtroom waiting for entrance.

She'd been lucky - at least a lot of people would think so. Father was among the judges who had been elected by the members of the Wizengamot to preside over the case. He'd ordered her to accompany him to the trial: as his heiress, she needed to learn how these things were done. So, she sat in the section reserved for the heirs of the members of the Wizengamot, a wad of parchment and a self-inking quill on her knees - for Father as sure as there were Dementors in Azkaban would quiz her about the details of the trial tonight - and waited for the trial to begin. She had more than enough room up here. Except her, there was only Ernie Macmillan watching the trial.

Loud cheers and clapping startled her out of her musings. All eyes in the courtroom were directed at the section where she sat. Surely neither she nor poor Ernie had done anything to earn the attention, so she turned around.

Harry had just entered the courtroom through a door at the top level, the Weaselette in tow. He didn't look as if he enjoyed the attention he got, though he waved and gave a nod of thanks to the audience. In contrary to him, the Weaselette looked rather pleased.

They both sat down in Daphne's row and stuck their heads together. Harry had a soft smile on his lips as they talked among themselves, and he not once took his eyes off the Weaselette's face.

A wistful sigh escaped Daphne's lips. She'd give anything for him to be looking at her like that. Did the Weaselette know how lucky she was to be adored like that? Even more important: did she reciprocate his feelings?

Daphne looked at the young girl, trying to gauge her expression and her body language.

The Weaselette looked at the audience and smiled at something Harry said. However, she leaned slightly away from him and let her eyes wander across the room, until her eyes met Daphne's. The Weaselette froze. Her eyes shot daggers at Daphne, and she put her hand on Harry's arm and said something to him. Harry tensed, and his face darkened. He looked up and stared at Daphne. If looks could kill she'd be dead here and now.

Heat crept into Daphne's face. She lowered her head and pretended to be occupied with the parchment in her lap. There was no need to ask how he felt about Father's proposal of a marriage contract between them. His angry posture said everything. It was just her luck that he seemed to blame her, too, for Father's plans. So much for Tori's idea to approach him about the Weaselette's exploits in a certain bedroom of the Slytherin boy's dorms. He was more likely to hex her into the next millennium than to hear her out if she said anything against the girl.

The doors of the courtroom banged shut. The same moment another door close to the top of the room opened, and the judges, clad in red velvet robes, descended the stairs that divided the tiers reserved for the members of the court.

Father led the impressive procession. He'd been elected as the presiding judge, the one who moderated the trial and made sure the rules of the court were obeyed. That was a great honour, and a testament that Father still was held in high esteem by his peers in the Wizengamot, in spite of his neutral stance during the last war and the fact that his brother had been found among the Death Eaters who died during the Battle of Hogwarts.

Not everyone had been happy to see him in the leading position. There had been a lot of angry whispers and dark looks cast at him on the first day of the trial. His competent handling of the trial, however, had earned him the respect of the audience and the press.

Father had reached the pulpit that was reserved for the presiding judge and took his place. He waited until the other judges had sat down, and banged the gavel.

The room fell silent. The door of the courtroom opened again, and two Aurors led Malfoy into the room. The rules of court for criminal cases had been changed on Minister for Magic Shacklebolt's demands, prior to the trials. There were no Dementors guarding the accused, thank Merlin. Instead, an additional guard of Aurors walked in and spread out on the ground floor, their wands in their hands.

Malfoy looked rather well, considering he had been in Ministry holding cells ever since the Battle of Hogwarts. He wore elegant robes, and each hair on his head was in its place, slicked back and gleaming. He wasn't in chains, either, only magical handcuffs restrained him. The aurors took the handcuffs off and motioned him to sit down. However, Malfoy didn't sit down immediately. He looked at the audience, his trademark sneer on his face.

Hisses and boos went around the room, and Father had to bang the gavel repeatedly and call for quiet. Malfoy gave the audience one last, imperious look, and took his seat. The chains on the seat of the accused had not yet been abolished, and they rattled menacingly the moment Malfoy sat down.

A white haired wizard, clad in conservative business robes and a briefcase in his hand, sat down beside Malfoy.

She cast a surreptitious look at Harry and his girlfriend. Merlin help her that he wouldn't catch her staring at him once again. Lucky for her, Harry's eyes were trained on Malfoy, like all other eyes in the room. His eyes were guarded and didn't give anything away. Sometime during the last year he must have learned how to control their expression. But he had his teeth clenched, and the tendons on his neck stood out.

The Weaselette didn't show any of Harry's restraint. Her face a mask of hate, she looked ready to spit. She said something to Harry, and he put his hand on hers, as if to calm her down.

Again, Father banged the gavel. 'The case of Magical Britain against Lucius Abraxas Malfoy is hereby reopened.'

Daphne picked up her quill and began to take notes. She'd better pay attention now, or Father would be most displeased with her tonight.

Father went through the opening formalities of the trial. After that he cautioned today's witnesses. Again, she cast a look at Harry from under her eyelashes. He'd given his testimony about Malfoy's role in the return of Voldemort yesterday.

The morning flew by with the testimony of the Aurors who had investigated Malfoy's business dealings and his financial backing of Voldemort.

Daphne leaned forward in her seat. The statements of the Aurors were most interesting. She and Father had speculated over the Malfoy holdings a lot during the last couple of years. True, their Wiltshire manor was surrounded by a lot of farmland. In fact, the Malfoys were the biggest landholders in the magical community of Britain. However, they were small fish in the pond, compared to the big Muggle landowners. There was no way the Malfoys could make the amount of money they needed for their lifestyle out of the rents they got from their tenants. Either they did business in the Muggle world - like the Greengrass family and the Potter family - or they got their money by illegal means.

Father was positive that the Malfoys had no business connections in the Muggle world. He'd set the Legal Department of the Muggle branch of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products on that case, and they'd come up empty.

The statement from the Aurors proved how the Malfoys had built up a small imperium that controlled about ninety percent of the illegal dealings at Knockturn Alley. Contrary to the audience, the judges seemed to understand what the Aurors were talking about, if their frequent additional questions were anything to go by.

Daphne cast a quick look at Harry and his girlfriend. The Weaselette looked as if she was bored to tears. Harry, however, sat leaned forward, as if not to miss a single word of the Auror's statement. On top of it, his expression indicated that he understood most of it.

Now, that was interesting. Harry had been a less than stellar student at Hogwarts. In fact, he'd belonged to the lazy bums in their year, and she'd more than once been tempted to kick his behind for his lack of interest in things he needed to know. Alas, she never was in a position to do that. So, who would've thought that he'd perk up at the dry enumeration of business shares, yearly turnovers, Gringotts vaults, nominees and tax tricks?

Father adjourned the trial for a short lunch break. They met in his office for a quick lunch Matty served them. Over sandwiches and pumpkin juice they discussed the trial.

'What did you think about the evidence from the Aurors, Daphne?' Father asked.

So the examination began. She resisted the urge to fidget in her seat. Instead, she took the time to chew and swallow the bite in her mouth. That gave her time to think about her answer. 'It should by itself be enough to send him to Azkaban for a long time. He's been selling illegal addictive potions for almost twenty-five years and laundered the profits through his legal businesses. Let's hope that the other judges are able to understand what they are talking about, and act accordingly.'

'The Wizengamot got a summary of the Malfoy file before the judges were elected, so we knew that the illegal Malfoy business dealings would play a big role in this case. For that reason, the judges that were selected all have experience in the financial aspects of business,' Father said.

Daphne put the sandwich in her hand back on her plate. 'Are you telling me that the Wizengamot for once was ruled by sensible considerations?' She raised her eyebrows at him.

Father let out a low rumble. 'Hard to believe, isn't it? But yes, that's the gist of it. I count myself lucky that I have these judges. Only very few of them are really rich. Most of them are wealthy, but still have to work for their livelihood. They have suffered and are still suffering the most from the economic crisis caused by Voldemort's return and the war. You can bet they are ready to tear Malfoy apart.' He gave her a close-lipped smile. His face was calm, but his eyes betrayed a deep satisfaction about the course of the trial.

He took a sip of his pumpkin juice. His close-lipped smile turned into a predatory grin. 'The beauty of it is that he hasn't yet realised that the noose is tightening around his neck. He thinks the judges are too dumb to understand what he's done, just like the many idiots in the audience.'

Daphne tilted her head to the side. 'You really hate him, don't you?'

Father's eyes darkened. He crumpled his napkin in his fist. 'He lured my brother away from his family, Daphne. He set the chain of events into motion that made my father cast Dorian out of the family, and that killed my brother in the end. I'll never forgive him for that.'

Her breath hitched. Father as good as never talked about his brother. He'd been cast out of the family by grandfather when he discovered that he had taken the Dark Mark. That had been five years before her birth, so she never got to know him. So it had been Malfoy who introduced Dorian to the Death Eaters. No wonder Father hated him so much. The unity of the family meant everything to him.

Father's communicativeness ended as sudden as it had begun. 'I've noticed that Harry seemed to understand quite a lot of the Auror's statements,' he said. His voice sounded satisfied, but his face was guarded once again, so it was hard to tell how he really felt about that.

'Did he?' she said, and pushed a strand of her hair out of her face. At least she didn't turn red.

Of course, she couldn't deceive him. The low rumble in Father's throat indicated his amusement. 'Oh, you know that very well, Daphne. After all, you were at least as interested in him as in the statement of the Aurors.'

Heat shot into her cheeks. She lowered her head, pretended to pick up a crumb of bread that had fallen into her lap, and tried to regain her composure.

She looked up and breathed a silent, relieved sigh. Father's attention was still on Harry. 'That was a pleasant surprise,' he said, and took another sip out of his glass. 'After all I've heard, he wasn't particularly interested in his studies. I wonder where he picked up that much information about business dealings to be able to follow the statement from the Aurors. From Muggle newspapers, maybe. They are quite different to _The Prophet._ '

He put his glass back on the table and pushed his plate away. 'However, it is most unfortunate that he's still with that Weasley girl. I'm still amazed he took her back after she cheated on him with that boy while he was on the run.'

Daphne didn't even blink. Of course Father knew about that. It was uncanny how he always knew about the secrets of people. Though, the Weaselette hadn't been discreet about her affair. At least all Slytherins knew about it, and Father might have got the news from anyone of the alumni. There wasn't a house at Hogwarts that was as gossipy as Slytherin.

'They broke up after Dumbledore's funeral. The whole school saw that. Technically, Weasley was free to do as she pleased,' she said.

Father nodded. 'You're right, Daphne. But at the moment she's considered to be the steady girlfriend of The-Man-Who-Conquered, and judging by her behaviour today she revels in that title. So, how does that explain that she's still meeting with her lover? Secretly, of course.'

Her head shot up, and she knocked over her glass of pumpkin juice. 'She's what?'

'I've been told she's sneaking out of the house at night at least four times a week,' Father said. He flicked his wand and Vanished the mess she'd created. 'I suppose, to meet her lover. Nicholas is still working on finding the connection between her and the boy. He's moved out from his mother's, and Nicholas hasn't yet found out where he lives now.'

She had no doubts that he told her the truth. Father was always well informed about people who could be useful to their family - or posed a danger.

'I'm sure we can use that to our advantage. I've not yet given up hope on the marriage between you and Harry,' he said, and stood up.

Daphne followed his example. Her heart thumped in her chest. Yes, that would be her biggest dream come true, but at what price? 'You're not thinking about blackmailing him, are you, Father?'

He cast her a look over his shoulder, his hand already on the handle of his office door. 'I'll do whatever is necessary to protect the interests of our family, Daphne.'

She walked back to the courtroom behind him. Her stomach churned. He couldn't mean what he indicated, could he?

She let out a snort. Who was she fooling? This was her father; he was honourable to a fault in his business dealings and his duties on the Wizengamot, but he also knew no scruples when it came to the family. He wanted to unite the company with the hand of his oldest child, and he wanted to make sure she got the man she loved, so he would do whatever he deemed necessary to make that outcome happen.

However, she wanted Harry to fall in love with her, and not marry her out of an obligation, or, even worse, because Father blackmailed him into that. Would she have the guts to stand up against Father if it came to that? She'd always chosen the easiest route and done what he wanted. To be honest, he'd always had her best interest at heart, so it had been sensible to obey. But this was different. He might have her best interest at heart, but what about Harry's?

The rest of the afternoon went by in a blurr. She hardly paid attention to the prosecutor and Malfoy's attorney giving their oral pleads. The talk in Father's office played in her mind over and over again.

She ought to stop Father. He couldn't meddle with Harry's life like that. He'd had too many people doing that already during the first eighteen years of his life, she had gathered this much from watching him at Hogwarts and devouring everything that was printed about him. But did she have the willpower to stop Father?

Most important: did she want to stop him? Even without Father's news that the Weaselette still cheated on him, she was convinced that Harry wouldn't be happy with the girl in the long run. Astoria was right: those two didn't have much in common except Quidditch.

The Weaselette was outgoing, where Harry was quiet and introverted. She loved to be the center of attention, while Harry hated that and preferred to stand on the sidelines and watch. She could be incited to anger with only the slightest provocation, while Harry bottled everything up until he finally exploded. She cared about nothing than Quidditch, and her grades at Hogwarts were appalling.

Harry, on the other hand, had begun to take a vivid interest in the rebuilding of the magical world, as the few interviews he'd given after the Battle betrayed. It was easy to imagine that he'd take an active role in the politics of their world in a few years.

He couldn't find a wife less likely to support him in that than the Weaselette. She, however, would not only be able to support him with her own accomplishments as a well-bred Pureblood woman, she also could throw behind him the weight of a hereditary seat on the Wizengamot and her family's connections.

Again, she looked at Harry and the Weaselette. He'd taken her hand into his and played with her fingers.

She sighed and slumped into her seat. Who was she fooling? There was no way Harry would ever consider her over the Weaselette. Her blonde prettiness and reticent personality paled in comparison to the fiery beauty of the Weaselette, and her matching temper.

She was startled out of her thoughts when Father asked the judges to give their verdicts. Nobody was surprised when Malfoy was found guilty and sentenced to ten years at Azkaban. The punishment was mild, but his failure to serve Voldemort properly came to his rescue: as a punishment, he hadn't been involved in any of the murders, so the only offences he committed were of a less heinous nature.

'Mr Malfoy, traditionally the accused has the last word. Do you want to speak?' Father said.

Malfoy rose to his feet. 'This court is a farce! I refuse to acknowledge any sentence given to me by it.' He pointed his finger at Father. 'You are going to pay for this insult, Cyrus Greengrass! Watch out for yourself, and watch out for your lovely wife and daughters. It would be a shame if something unfortunate were to happen to them, wouldn't it?' He sneered. The next second he whirled around and glowered up at Harry. His face was a mask of hate. 'I'll make sure you won't live long enough to enjoy your victory, Potter!'

Cries of outrage arose throughout the room. The Aurors encircled Malfoy and brandished their wands at the enraged mob in the tiers, or they would have flooded the ground floor of the courtroom and lynched Malfoy.

Daphne looked at Father. He had his brows furrowed, and banged his gavel over and over again to restore order in the courtroom.

Her eyes wandered to Harry. His face was a stony mask, but his eyes burnt holes in the back of Malfoy's skull. The air around him seemed to crackle with power.

She took a deep, satisfying breath, and straightened her shoulders. A broad grin spread over her face. Malfoy didn't have a clue what a hornet's nest he'd just stirred by threatening Harry. Harry would squash him under his foot if he ever dared to make a move on him, of this much she was sure.

Her gaze returned to Father, and she sobered. Father had managed to restore quiet, and just instructed the Aurors to take Malfoy to Azkaban.

Yes, Harry could easily fend for himself. But what would become of her family?

 _t.b.c._


	12. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Another big thank you to Shygui, who edited this chapter. You are amazing!

 **10**

A week after Malfoy had been shipped off to Azkaban, the waves about his threats in the courtroom still went high. Today's lead article of The Prophet demanded that his case should be reopened, so that he'd get an appropriate punishment for his threats against the Chosen One.

Harry let out an angry snort at that. What about the threats against the Greengrass family? Truth be told, Cyrus Greengrass was not his favourite person, but it was depressing that the Wizarding press thought the threats against his wife and daughters were not as significant or newsworthy as a threat against him.

He took a bite of the toast in his hand and turned the page of the newspaper that lay beside his plate in search of something more sensible to read.

He didn't care much about Malfoy's threats. Not that he was exceptionally brave, or confident in his prowess, but Kingsley had assured him that Malfoy didn't have the power anymore to act on his threats - at least at the moment: his coffers were as good as empty, and his cronies would join him in the hospitality of Azkaban very soon.

Narcissa and Draco wouldn't dare to go against him. While he was indebted to them for saving his life at Malfoy Manor and during the Battle, they were just as tied to him with debts of their own. Added to this he had used his influence and testimony to keep them out of jail.

Ginny, Hermione and Ron hadn't been happy with him about that. They had had a huge fight, however, maybe for the first time he had asserted himself against them, and defended his decision, instead of retiring into himself and waiting until the storm was over and they were back to normal.

Malfoy was a backstabbing coward, but no murderer. He had been a frightened kid who had been hung out to dry by the adults in his life, just like him. It was only luck that Draco had ended up on the losing side of the war. The humiliation the Malfoy name had gone through was punishment enough. There was no need to send him to Azkaban on top of that.

'Another helping of eggs and bacon, Harry?'

Mrs Weasley's voice startled him out of his thoughts, and he looked up.

'Thank you, Mrs Weasley, but I'm good.'

They were alone in the kitchen. Mr Weasley and George had already left for work, and Ginny was still asleep. Harry let out a soft chuckle. His girlfriend wasn't a morning person, in contrary to him. She loved to stay in bed until Mrs Weasley yelled for her to get up. Even then the dark circles under her eyes still talked of too little sleep. He sobered and put his half-eaten piece of toast back on his plate.

They were all still suffering from the repercussions of the last year. Most likely she still cried for Fred every night when alone, until she fell asleep. Maybe he ought to do something nice for her today, to take her thoughts off her grief for a while. A picnic in that secluded clearing in the woods beyond _The Burrow_ sounded good. They'd be out of Mrs Weasley's sight, and maybe they'd be able to do a little more than snogging…

Heat crept into his cheeks, and he lowered his head over his plate. There was no need to alert Mrs Weasley. He swore that woman was a powerful Legilimens when it came to Ginny and him.

A pecking at the window made him look up. A long-eared owl sat on the window sill. The letter attached to its leg bore the seal of Gringotts.

Mrs Weasley went to the window and let the owl in. As she reached out for the letter, the owl pecked at her with its sharp beak.

'Ouch!' Mrs Weasley withdrew her hand at a lightening speed. She had not been fast enough: a bloody scratch appeared at the back of her hand. She glowered at the owl and took her wand out of the pocket of her apron to heal the cut.

The owl flew to Harry and held its leg out to him. Harry untied the letter, his brows furrowed. His stomach tied itself into a knot. What did the Goblins want from him? Was this about his break-in at Gringotts?

The owl left as soon as Harry had untied the letter. He broke the seal and unfolded the letter.

His stomach dropped to his shoes, and he let out a soft moan. Why in the world did he have to have that second helping of bacon and eggs? He folded the letter and stood up.

'I need to go to Gringotts.'

Mrs Weasley eyed him, concern in her eyes. 'It's about the break-in, isn't it?'

He nodded.

The concern on Mrs Weasley's face became more pronounced. 'In that case, you ought not to go alone. Let me Floo-call Arthur; he'll -'

Harry shook his head. 'That's nice of you, Mrs Weasley, but I don't have the time for that. The letter said the Goblins want to see me right now.' He stood up and stuffed the letter in the back pocket of his jeans. 'Don't worry, I'll be fine. If I'm not back by dinnertime, inform Kingsley.'

He gave Mrs Weasley a small hug, left the kitchen, and walked to the Apparition point just outside the wards of _The Burrow._

A split second later he re-appeared at the public Apparition point in Diagon Alley. It was still early in the morning, and the alley was only sparsely populated by wizards and witches who hurried to get to their jobs in the shops of the alley. The cupola of Gringotts gleamed white in the morning sun, unblemished as if never a dragon had broken free through it, three bank robbers on its back.

Harry held his head low as he hurried down Diagon Alley to the bank. Two Security Trolls still guarded the entrance. The moment Harry tried to step inside the building, they swung their clubs at him and growled something in Troll.

'Uh - I need to get in there. I got a summons this morning,' Harry said.

The Trolls stepped closer, bared their teeth at him and swung their clubs even more threatening.

What now? He needed to present himself to the Goblins, but these damned Troll guards wouldn't let him in. Harry scratched the back of his head until enlightenment hit him. Of course, the letter! He pulled the letter out of the back pocket of his jeans and handed it to the Troll next to him.

The Troll grumbled some more, squinted at Harry through narrowed eyes, and took the letter. He put it close to his face and sniffed at it.

Bugger, Trolls were so stupid they probably couldn't read. How was he supposed to make the idiotic creature understand that he needed to see the Goblins?

The Troll raised his head and shouted something in Troll into the bank. Harry had no idea what he'd said, however, it didn't sound good.

The next moment the doors of Gringotts flung wide open, and Goblin warriors stormed out, clad in dragon skin armour and armed with nasty looking halberds. However, these were not your average, small Goblins. Each of them at least reached Harry's shoulder.

Harry had no time to react. The two Goblin warriors at the top swooped down on him, grabbed him by his upper arms, and held him in a dead grip. They seemed to be as strong as Giants, and their long fingernails hurt like hell where they dug through the thin fabric of his faded t-shirt into the soft flesh of his arms.

The blood rushed in Harry's ears, and he pressed his mouth shut to stifle the scream that welled up in him. What were they going to do with him?

The Goblin to his left snarled a command in guttural Gobbledygook. Four warriors lined up in front of them. They gripped their halberds with both fists as if ready to strike. The remaining guards moved behind them. They looked as belligerent as the guard in front of them. Another command in Gobbledygook, and the warriors set into motion in a double quick march.

His bad physical state took its toll. Harry couldn't keep up with their pace. After a few steps his guards dragged him between them into the bank like a sack of potatoes. They dragged him through the counter hall and down a hallway that seemed to have been cut into rough stone. Torches at the walls cast the hallway in an eerie light.

His pulse raced, and he broke into a cold sweat. At the same time, he was hyper aware of everything going on around him. The cadence of his wardens boomed in his ears like thunder. A cold draft blowed through the hallway and dried the sweat on his skin. He shivered.

They reached a tall double door, made out of a dark, almost black wood, and adorned with golden hinges and fittings. It was guarded by another troop of Goblin warriors. At a sharp command in Gobbledygook the doors opened in front of them and gave entrance to a huge cave.

The cave was lit by torches, and at its end, three iron chandeliers suspended in the air and cast a bright light on the platform below.

Behind a judge's table, cut out of the rough stone of the cave, sat twelve Goblins en banc. They were clad like the warriors who had captured Harry. Behind each of them, a tall halberd leaned against the back of the cave. The twelve Goblins were ancient, but that didn't make them less intimidating than the warriors who had dragged him into the cave. They gave him looks which it appeared were calculated to make his blood freeze in his veins.

They were successful, if this was indeed their desire. He clenched his teeth to prevent himself from asking blubbering questions.

His wardens thrust him upon a rock in front of the podium. Heavy iron chains were attached to the stone. The moment Harry touched the plinth, they wrapped around his legs and upper body, pressing him so tight against the rough stone at his back that his shirt was ripped and the cold stone dug into his flesh, making it difficult to breathe.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut for a brief second. This was going to be very, very bad.

The Goblin warriors lined up to the left and the right of the rock Harry was chained to.

Silence descended onto the cave. The Goblin warriors to his left and his right stared straight ahead, but the twelve ancient Goblins in front of him kept looking at him as if they were considering the most painful ways to kill him, resurrect him, and then do it all over again.

The silence dragged on.

Harry's breath came in short, ragged gasps. He'd known the risk of a break-in at Gringotts. At that time, the price had seemed worth the risk. It still was, even in hindsight. Now the time to pay the piper had come.

He looked at the Goblins in front of him. Yes, they were out for his blood. So, he wouldn't make it out of here alive.

He gulped. He wasn't afraid to die: he'd been there already and knew what to expect. But why did it always have to be him? And why right now, when he thought he finally was going to have the happy life he'd always dreamt about? He'd found the girl he wanted to spend his life with. He wanted to marry her, have children with her… That would never happen. That he wasn't allowed to say goodbye to Ginny was the meanest blow of all.

'Wizard, do you know why you've been summoned in front of the Goblin High Council?' the Goblin at the leftmost side said. His voice was barely above a whisper, but in the quiet cave it rolled like thunder.

Harry was about to shake his head, but halted. He remembered the talk he'd had with Bill about Goblins, back at _Shell Cottage._ Goblins had another view of the world than wizards, and different values. Even though a highly intelligent species, they still were treated as inferiors by wizardkind and resented it - with good reason.

This was a trick question. His heart thumped in his chest, and sweat trickled down his back. If he denied, they'd take that as a proof that wizards always tried to wriggle out of the consequences of the offenses they committed against Goblins. If he answered in the affirmative, he laid his head on the executioner's block. What by Merlin was he supposed to say?

However, he _had_ broken into Gringotts. He _had_ stolen a valuable object from one of their vaults. He _had_ compromised their security and undermined the trust of their customers. He _had_ freed one of their dragons, though involuntarily, and damaged the building. It was time to face the music.

He squared his shoulders. 'Yes, I do. I'm here because I broke into Gringotts, stole a valuable object, freed the dragon that guarded some of the high security vaults, and damaged the building as I fled on the back of said dragon.'

The Goblins froze. Another heavy silence descended on the cave. The ancient Goblins in front of him didn't go as far as to stare, but the surreptitious looks they cast at each other from the corner of their eyes betrayed how much his answer had surprised them. Good. Surprise was the mother of attack. If he managed to throw them off balance, he might even be able to talk himself out of this mess - with a damned big portion of luck.

The ancient Goblin at the leftmost side cleared his throat. 'Very well,' he said. 'Wizard, you have just admitted to having committed the biggest offense imaginable to Goblinkind. Under Goblin law, this offense can be punished with death. How do you plead?'

That was it. He had to sign his own death warrant. He looked the ancient Goblin straight into the eyes.

'Guilty.'

He closed his eyes. The memory of Ginny, eyes blazing, and the feeling of her lips on his had helped him once through what he thought were his last minutes on this earth. They'd also help him this time.

However, his mind went blank. No matter how hard he tried, the memory of Ginny's face slipped just out of his reach.

He opened his eyes wide - only to look at the most disconcerting sight no wizard before him had ever seen: twelve ancient Goblin warriors bared their pointed teeth at him in broad grins.

'You are a very unusual wizard, Mr Potter,' the leftmost Goblin said.

'Uh - thanks, I guess. But, please, call me Harry.'

The ancient Goblin let out a rumbling laugh and clicked his fingers. The heavy chains fell off Harry's body. They rattled and heaped at his feet in a small mountain.

'Call me Ragnok,' the ancient Goblin said.

Harry nodded, and he had to grip the rough rock with one hand to prevent himself from falling. His voice deserted him. One minute he thought he'd forfeited his life, and the next moment the Goblins were grinning at him and set him free. That was a lot to take in. He took a deep breath and tried in vain to get his trembling body under control.

'You are the first wizard ever who has committed a serious offense against the Goblin nation and who had the sense to admit to his crimes and earned himself the right to enter into negotiations with us,' Ragnok said.

He couldn't care less about that right now, but had the presence of mind to realise that the Goblins expected a sign of sufficient humility of him. 'I'm honoured, Ragnok,' he said. His voice was barely above a whisper.

'So you should be,' Ragnok said and clicked his fingers once again.

The cave morphed into a conference room with cream coloured walls. A thick oriental carpet covered most of a gleaming hardwood floor. A long conference table, made out of mahogany, stood where seconds before the judge's table had been. The twelve ancient goblins remained in their seats, but instead of the warrior gear they now wore conservative business suits.

Harry looked at the wall behind them. The halberds were gone. He heaved another deep breath.

Ragnok nodded at the warriors who still guarded Harry at both sides. A sharp command in Gobbledygook, and the warriors turned around and marched out of the room.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Ragnok motioned with his hand to a chair that had appeared opposite of the ancient Goblins. 'Sit down, Harry.'

On legs as wobbly as jelly Harry walked the short distance to the table. His vision swam, and everything around him seemed oddly distant and unreal. He plopped into the chair just the second his legs threatened to give out under him. He took a couple of deep breaths. This was the worst moment imaginable to faint on the Goblins. This was not yet over, and he needed to keep his wits about him.

'As you have already admitted that you have committed crimes against the Goblin Nation, we now ought to talk about what you can do to put the injustice we suffered through your actions back to rights, Harry,' Ragnok said, and gave him another grin that showed way too many pointed teeth.

Harry gulped. 'Right,' he said. His voice sounded stronger, but still as if it didn't belong to him. He cleared his throat. 'As it seems, I'm not in the position here to make demands. Why don't you just tell me what you want from me?'

Ragnok's face once again morphed into that disconcerting grin.

Couldn't he stop that? Harry squirmed.

The ancient Goblin clicked his fingers. A sheet of parchment appeared on the table in front of him. He pushed it towards Harry. 'That's what we demand as compensation for the damage you caused to our bank and our reputation.'

Harry took the parchment in his hands and read the column that was written on it. Each charge was listed. The single demands were all follow-ups of the damage he had caused, and didn't sound exaggerated. It was the total at the bottom of the line that had him gasp. 'That's a damn lot of Galleons,' he said, and looked at Ragnok. Was there enough money in his vault to pay for that damage?

'Oh, you're good for it, Harry. This is your current vault statement,' Ragnok said. Again, he clicked his fingers. Another sheet of parchment appeared in front of him, and he shoved it to Harry.

Harry pulled the parchment towards himself and studied it. He suppressed another gasp. He'd never known that there was so much money in his vault. Of course, he'd never asked…

He compared the numbers on both sheets, and did some quick calculating in his head. If he agreed to the demands of the Goblins, he had exactly one Knut left in his vault. Greedy little bastards.

His face hardened. He looked Ragnok square into the eyes. 'If I agree to sign over everything that's in my vault to you, I want something in return for that.'

Ragnok frowned, but nodded. 'Name your demands, Harry.'

'Firstly, I want a signed agreement between Gringotts and me that all demands from the break-in are settled, and that Gringotts isn't going to come after me with additional demands at a later time.'

Ragnok exchanged looks with the other Goblins.

Harry's hands became clammy. Would they agree?

'Accepted,' Ragnok said.

He almost slumped in his seat, but pulled himself together. This was not yet over. 'Secondly, with this agreement all demands Gringotts might have against Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley are also settled.'

Ragnok grinned. 'I was already wondering when we would come to your friends, Harry. But we accept.'

Harry shifted in his seat. This was too easy. Why were the Goblins that accommodating? He took another deep breath. 'Thirdly, Gringotts agrees to continue to accept Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley and me as customers from now on.'

'Oh, but of course,' Ragnok said, and made a dismissive gesture with his hand.

Harry narrowed his eyes at him. 'Alright, where's the catch?'

For the second time that day Harry was exposed to a sight no wizard before him had ever seen: twelve ancient Goblins breaking out into laughter.

'There is no catch at all, Harry,' Ragnok told him, still chuckling. 'You know that you're the Potter heir, don't you? That vault -' he indicated with his hand to the vault statement in front of Harry -, 'That vault is your father's old trust vault his executor set up for him after the death of your grandfather. That's the only gold you currently have at your disposal. The bulk of your gold is held in the Potter family vault, but you'll not be able to lay your hands on it without your executor's agreement. However, you'll be able to do so when you're thirty. You're still a very rich wizard, Harry, and Gringotts will be honoured to do business with you.'

Harry leaned back in his chair. That explained a lot.

Ragnok clicked his fingers yet another time. A third sheet of paper and a blood red quill with a pointed tip appeared in front of him. He pushed the parchment to Harry. 'Will that suffice?'

Harry read the parchment. The conditions of his settlement with the Goblins were listed on it in neat penmanship. 'I agree,' he said, and pushed the parchment back to Ragnok. 'After you, if you please.'

The ancient Goblin chuckled once again. 'You've got a very level head for business on your shoulders, Harry.' He picked up the quill and signed the settlement, not heeding the cut that appeared on the back of his hand as he did so.

Harry made a face. He hated blood quills.

After Ragnok, the other eleven Goblins also signed with their blood. Harry was the last one to sign the settlement. He pushed the settlement across the table towards Ragnok.

'Very well,' the ancient Goblin said. He duplicated the signed settlement with a click of his fingers and gave the original back to Harry.

Harry folded it and put it into the mokeskin pouch he wore around his neck.

Ragnok stood up and held his hand out to him. 'It was a pleasure to do business with you, Harry. I'm looking forward to many prosperous deals for us in the future.'

He'd bet the old bastard did. Harry forced a polite smile on his face, rose from his chair and shook the Goblin's hand. 'The pleasure is all mine, Ragnok.' He heard how the tall doors behind him opened, bowed to the eleven other Goblins and took that as his cue to leave the room.

The feeling of surreality stayed with him as he walked out of the bank and to the Apparition point. By now, Diagon Alley was crowded by early morning customers. Many bright smiles and respectful greetings were directed at him. Harry nodded and waved into the crowd, and even managed to smile, but he'd be hard pressed to describe the wizards and witches he acknowledged.

The morning with the Goblins had been - intense. He reached the Apparition point and took a few, deep breaths to center himself. He had no desire to splinch himself.

A last, deep breath, and the next second he stood in front of the gate to _The Burrow._ He stumbled and grabbed for the gate post to keep his footing. Damned, since when was Apparition that exhausting? He took a look over the overgrown hedge. Ginny was in the vegetable garden, tending to the plants.

She straightened up when she heard his steps. A smile appeared on her face that didn't quite reach her eyes. She was always so concerned for him.

'Harry, how did it go with the Goblins?' she asked.

Instead of an answer, he took her in his arms and kissed her deeply. He had to make sure that he still was alive, that he still had a future…

She put her hands on his chest and gently pushed him away. 'What was that for?' Her voice sounded amused, but her smile had vanished, and her eyes searched his face as if she didn't like what she saw there.

'Can't a guy just be happy to see his girlfriend?' he asked. Why bother her with what he'd been through this morning? She already had enough to worry about, with Fred gone, and her parents and George still having a hard time comprehending the loss. After all, his encounter with the Goblins had been just another hair-raising adventure in the crazy life of Harry Potter. He'd been through worse.

'Something's bothering you,' she said. Her eyes still scrutinised his face.

He shrugged. 'I made a settlement with the Goblins about the break-in. I agreed to pay for the damage, but they'll leave me and Ron and Hermione in peace about that from now on, and even agreed to do business with us in the future.'

Her face became tense. 'How much?'

He gave another shrug. 'About everything that was in the vault I inherited from my father.'

She paled at that.

Harry pulled her closer and gave her a short kiss. 'Don't worry about that, Ginny. True, I'll be pretty broke until I start Auror training in September, but I'll manage. I'll earn enough for a living after that.' At least, if he managed to fool the healer about his condition during his upcoming health exam…

 _t.b.c._


	13. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** As always, a big thank you to Shygui for editing this chapter. You rock!

 **11**

Dinner at _The Rectory_ was a simple affair when Father and Mother had no guests to entertain. The family met at a round table in the breakfast room off the kitchen that faced the walled-in patio next to the entrance of the house. Floor to ceiling windows let in a lot of natural light, and comfortable rattan furniture and a collection of everblooming, delicate orchids on low tables made it a cosy room for informal meals.

Daphne helped Astoria to manoeuvre her wheelchair to the table, and sat down in her usual place beside her sister.

Father looked at her across the table. There was something in his eyes, a pronounced smugness… What was he up to now?

He placed his napkin in his lap. 'I had lunch with Ragnok today.'

Ragnok was the Director of Gringotts, and an old friend of Father's. They had lunch together at least once a month, so the fact alone wasn't remarkable enough to be mentioned. It must be something that came up during that lunch…

She followed Father's example and also put her napkin in her lap. 'I hope he is well.' She turned to Matty, who put a bowl of soup in front of her, and thanked her. From the corner of her eyes she glanced at Father. He still looked rather satisfied with himself. Her heart thumped in her throat. What was going on here?

Father dipped his spoon into his soup. 'Ragnok made a settlement with young Harry this morning, about the damage he caused when he broke into Gringotts.'

Astoria came to her support. 'I hope he didn't press the last Knut from Harry for that,' she said, and took a spoonful of soup.

Father placed down his spoon and dabbed his mouth with his napkin. He put his fingers around the stem of his wine glass. 'It didn't come that far. Ragnok told me he had exactly one Knut left in his vault when they were finished.'

Daphne's spoon clattered into her bowl from nerveless fingers. Soup splotched onto the tablecloth.

'Daphne!' Mother said, and gave her a disapproving frown.

She didn't care. The muscles in her neck tightened. 'But - How is he supposed to care for himself without gold? He hasn't finished his education yet, and Auror Academy won't start before September. You made it pretty clear that you won't give him access to the Potter estate. Or have you changed your mind?' She glared at Father.

'I don't have to change my mind,' Father said, and ate his soup as if he didn't have a care in the world. 'Also, I won't deny that this suits me just fine. Young Mr Potter will be forced to ask me for help sooner or later.'

 _t.b.c._


	14. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Once again, a big thank you to Shygui for editing this. You have no idea how much work and spare time he puts into this.

 **12**

The young mediwitch ushered Harry into one of the examination room at St Mungo's. 'Healer Payne will be with you any moment.' She gave him a blinding smile.

She was very pretty, the ugly nurse's uniform couldn't hide that fact, and under normal circumstances his seventeen year old, hormonal self would have responded to that. However, nothing was normal with him anymore. He had weakened even more over the last couple of days, and was already out of breath from the short walk from the waiting area to the examination room. He couldn't care less about female beauty right now.

He sat down on the uncomfortable patients chair in front of Healer Payne's desk and looked around. The examination room was small and functional: white walls, decorated with posters about the functions of the human body, a desk, chairs, a bookshelf, and an examination bed. The dust covered potted plant on the window sill didn't succeed in making the room look cosy.

The examination was only a formality, Kingsley had assured him yesterday evening when he and Hestia visited for dinner. Everyone who had been in the D.A. and fought for the Light at the Battle would be accepted. They didn't need the N.E.W.T.s in the required subjects; they only had to pass the health test and have reasonable O.W.L. marks.

However, that was exactly the snatch in the plan. He'd lost even more weight in the last week since his encounter with the Goblins, and looked like death warmed up. Thank Merlin for Glamour Charms and Illusion Charms.

Had he any gold left then he would have sought out a healer, but he didn't, so the point was moot. Besides, as an Auror, his medical treatment would be covered by the Ministry. He only had to make it through today…

The door opened, and Healer Payne came in. Harry rose from his seat, and they shook hands.

Healer Payne sat down behind his desk and gave Harry a long, appraising look. He furrowed his brows, pulled his wand out of the breast pocket of his robes, and directed it at Harry. 'Finite Incantatem.'

Busted.

Harry lowered his eyes and studied the tips of his battered trainers.

Silence descended onto the room.

Healer Payne was the first to break it. He cleared his throat. 'Since -' His voice gave out, and he cleared his throat once more. 'How long have you been in this condition, Mr Potter?'

Harry didn't look up. He didn't want to see the horror and the pity in Healer Payne's eyes. 'I had already lost a lot of weight during the time on the run,' he said. 'It was incredibly hard to find enough food, you know. It got better after the Battle, but it seemed that no matter how much I ate, I kept losing weight. Lately, I have also had problems keeping food down. For a week or so I've been throwing up as soon as I leave the table.' It had been damned hard to hide that from Mrs Weasley.

'I understand. Please, lay down on the examination bed, Mr. Potter.'

Harry stifled a sigh, stood up and shuffled to the bed, still not looking up. He kicked off his trainers, laid down and closed his eyes.

He heard Healer Payne step next to him. From the rustle of his robes he assumed that the healer waved his wand across his body, but he heard no spell being uttered. A faint smell hung in Healer Paynes robes, a mix of potions, disinfectants and mint; not unpleasant, but it made his nose tingle, and he hardly suppressed a sneeze.

The minutes trickled by.

'We need to talk, Mr Potter,' Healer Payne said.

Harry heard him turn around and walk back to his desk. He slipped into his trainers and followed him.

The healer leant back in his chair; his chin in his hand and his index finger tipping against the side of his nose he looked ahead with a vacant expression on his face. When Harry sat down, he leant forward and put his forearms onto the desk pad. 'You probably already know that I can't give you a clean bill of health for the Auror Academy.'

Harry's stomach tightened. What was he supposed to do now? He had set all his hopes on entering the Auror Academy in September. All his dreams depended on that. He slumped in his chair and nodded.

'I'm not going to sugarcoat things for you, Mr Potter.' There was a lot of compassion in Healer Payne's voice. 'You are seriously ill. Your body shows all signs of someone who has been exposed to Dark Magic for years.'

Harry's head shot up. How could that be? Yes, he'd carried Voldemort's unintentional Horcrux inside of him, but the horrible thing had only messed with his feelings, hadn't it?

'Magic always leaves a mark. When a body is exposed to Dark Magic, and the exposure is removed, there are always repercussions. For lack of a better word, the exposure is sucking power out of the body of the victim. Depending on how long the exposure lasts, or how strong the Dark Magic was, the victim may need anything from a couple of weeks up to a year to recover from that. In your case, however…' Healer Payne's voice trailed off, and he shook his head.

'I've never seen a case as severe as yours. Curiously enough, your magical power is not affected. Your magical core is just fine and is unbelievably still growing. The exposure, or whatever it was, has inflicted severe harm on your body. Virtually the system within your body is afflicted. Added to this my scan indicates long-term exposure to abuse and starvation from a very early age in life, Mr Potter. Quite simply, you're suffering from severe long-term trauma.' Again, the healer shook his head.

He looked Harry square into the eyes. 'Even with the help of your amazingly strong magic, your body isn't strong enough to cope with it all, Mr Potter. If you don't get treatment soon, you'll be dead within three months.'

Harry gasped. The air was pressed out of his lungs as if a Bludger had hit him in the stomach. This was just another nightmare. Mrs Weasley would come in and shake him awake any moment…

He turned his head away from Healer Payne and looked out of the window. Below, the London traffic rushed past. Cars and pedestrians seemed as small as ants from up here. Quick steps walked down the hallway in front of the examination room. Two people talked to each other. One of them laughed. A whooshing sound indicated that the door at the end of the hallway was being pulled open, and the steps and the voices faded away until the sharp noise of the door clicking shut drowned them out.

No nightmare, but harsh reality. He turned back to the healer. 'So, there's a treatment?'

Healer Payne bit his lower lip. 'There is a treatment,' he said. 'It's a very complicated potion. Only a handful of potion masters in the world are skilled enough to brew it. Besides that, it needs very rare and expensive ingredients, which is what makes it extremely expensive.'

'Which potion do you mean?' he asked.

'It's called _Le Renouvellement_ ***** _,'_ Healer Payne said. 'It has been invented by a French witch in the late 19th century. It is very costly, because of the rare ingredients, as I've already mentioned, and also because of the complexity of the brewing process. Each round has to be tweaked to target a specific problem within the body. However, the results are astounding: once the patient has finished the assigned doses of the potion, their body is restored to the best version of themselves at their current age.'

That didn't sound good. At the moment, he didn't have two Knuts to rub together in his vault - literally. It wasn't enough to buy himself a simple Pepper-Up-Potion, let alone something so rare as the _Le Renouvellement_ Potion.

Nevertheless, he had to ask. 'How much will it cost?'

'A million Galleons, if not more. It depends on the extent of the damage that has to be treated. Unfortunately, your body is very damaged, Mr Potter.'

Harry slumped even further into his seat. This was hopeless. He'd never have that much money. Before his settlement with the Goblins it wouldn't have been a problem. He let out a bitter laugh. He had given the Goblins his money to escape death, only to discover that he'd need that money to get a treatment that prevented him from dying. How ironic was that?

He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He wasn't afraid to die. However, he needed to make some preparations before that. He needed time to think. Maybe there was still a way out of this mess he hadn't thought of yet. Damn it, he didn't want to die; he still had so many plans…

He stood up and held out his hand to Healer Payne. 'Thank you for your honesty, Healer Payne. You'll understand I need some time to digest this.'

Healer Payne took his hand and shook it. 'Let me know when you're ready as soon as possible, Mr Potter, so that I can inform my colleague at the _Hotel Dieu Magique_ in Paris to begin with the brewing. The brewing takes at least one month. Of course, my colleague will have to examine you before that, to determine how the potion needs to be tweaked for your special case.'

Harry only nodded to that and left the room. Healer Payne thought of him as a rich young man. After the war, it had become public knowledge that he was the heir of the last Black and what was supposed to be their vast fortune. Nobody knew, however, that the huge fortune had been reduced to a still sizeable amount of gold during the time of Walburga Black's management. The gold had been added to his vault after Sirius' death and had been part of the compensation he had paid to the Goblins.

He didn't restore the charms on himself. He dragged himself out of the hospital and onto the street, not heeding the many unabashed stares he got for his horrible appearance. They ranged from pitiful to disgusted.

'Horrible, these drug addicts,' a Muggle woman said as he passed her.

He didn't care. He put one foot in front of the other, like a puppet on a string, and without an aim. This was the third time within six weeks that he was at the brink of death. That was a new record, even for him. He snorted.

A Muggle man, who passed him walking his dog on a leash, turned around and stared at him. He tipped with his index finger against his forehead and walked on.

Right, this was crazy. Why did horrible things always have to happen to him?

He hadn't looked where he was walking while he was lost in his thoughts, and found himself at the Thames. He looked around to get his bearings. He was on the Victoria Embankment, near New Scotland Yard. The entrance to the Ministry of Magic wasn't far from here.

He sat down on one of the benches that lined the broad pedestrian walkway, and looked out onto the river. The waters hurried by, indifferent to his problems.

What was he supposed to do now? He'd be damned if he'd give up without at least trying to get the gold for the treatment. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The early summer sun warmed his weary bones.

He didn't have the gold right now, but he was the heir of the Potters. Though Cyrus had left no doubt that he wouldn't get a single Knut as long as he didn't bow to his demands, he couldn't withhold the gold from him indefinitely.

He opened his eyes wide. That was it! He could ask the Goblins to lend him the gold, with the promise to pay them back as soon as he came into full control of his inheritance from his father's side.

He stood up and walked into the direction of Whitehall. Fifteen minutes later, he reached the Leaky Cauldron, and lost no time in walking through the crowded taproom towards the entrance of Diagon Alley. Though many wizards and witches turned their heads and stared at him, nobody seemed to recognise him. He grinned to himself. Finally, his emaciated appearance was good for something.

Another ten minutes later he sat in front of Griphook and explained his problem.

However, Griphook shook his head. 'Sorry, Harry, but I can't do that. Where is your equity? Where are your securities?'

'I can offer you a mortgage on the house I own on Grimmauld Place,' Harry said.

Griphook gave him a contemptuous snarl. 'A house that's unplottable and under a Fidelius Charm on top of that. I've also heard that it's infested by all kinds of magical vermin. That makes your so called security pretty worthless, I'd say.'

Harry's shoulders slumped. He had counted on the Goblins to get the gold he needed. He tried one last time. 'As soon as I'm in control of my inheritance I'll be able to pay you back.'

'Who guarantees that your inheritance still holds the gold you owe Gringotts in thirteen years? The answer is still no.' Griphook glowered at him. There was no doubt this had been his last word on the subject.

Harry stood up. His heart was heavy in his chest. 'Sorry for wasting your time, Griphook,' he said, and left the office.

What now? How was he supposed to get the gold for his treatment? His head lowered, he walked to the public Apparition point. He had the gold in his grandfather's estate, at least he thought so. He only had to persuade Cyrus to give him access. That posed a bit of a problem after their last encounter, but surely Cyrus would give in if he told him what was at stake? He was of no use to Cyrus when he was dead; after all, he wanted him to become his successor.

Harry made a face. There was no way around it: he had to swallow his pride and talk to Cyrus.

He turned on the spot and Apparated to _The Rectory._

Like the last time, the front gate opened when the handle recognised him. He walked up the long coachway. In the midday sun, the walk seemed longer and more exhausting than he remembered, and he had to pause more than once. He was rather out of breath when he reached the iron gate in the wall that sheltered the back side of the house.

He took a few minutes in front of the gate to catch his breath. Merlin, he hated how weak he felt. When he put his hand on the handle of the gate, it vibrated, and the gate opened. Like on his previous visit, Matty stood in the open door to receive him; her eyes grew large as she took in his appearance.

'Is Mr Greengrass at home, Matty?' he asked the house elf. 'I have something of importance to talk about to him.'

Matty held the door open and motioned him inside. However, instead to the study, she led him to a formal sitting room further down the hall.

Harry sat down in one of the chairs and looked around. Deep, overstuffed sofas and chairs lined the walls opposite of an ornate fireplace that was high enough to stand in. Oil paintings of serene landscapes adorned the walls. They were Muggle paintings; nothing moved inside of them. He hadn't expected that in the house of a magical family. He leaned his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes. He'd better prepare himself for his encounter with Cyrus.

Matty returned a few minutes later. 'Master is ready to see the great Harry Potter.'

He followed the elf to Cyrus's office. As he reached the door, he motioned the elf to wait before she opened the door. He took a deep breath and centered himself. He nodded at Matty. 'I'm ready.'

Matty opened the door. 'Mr Harry Potter, Master.'

Harry stepped into the room.

Cyrus was writing on a parchment. He didn't look up at once when Harry walked into the room.

Harry suppressed the urge to snort. He'd dealt with Snape for six years. Snape had been a master in the art of intimidation, and he'd learned from him all the mean tricks. He'd be surprised if Cyrus was really writing on an important letter. This was nothing than an attempt to make him squirm.

Well, he wouldn't comply. Since Cyrus took his sweet time to end his letter, he cast a Cushioning Charm on one of the chairs while he wasn't looking. He'd be damned if he'd sit down on that uncomfortable chair once again without one. He needed to keep his wits about him during their upcoming talk, and he wouldn't let himself be distracted by an uncomfortable chair.

Cyrus ended his letter and looked up. His eyes were cold. Whatever he intended to say, however, died on his lips. He froze, and his eyes seemed to bulge out of his head. His voice seemed to have deserted him. He motioned with his hand for Harry to sit down, and cleared his throat repeatedly.

Harry sat down on the offered chair. Yes, with a Cushioning Charm it was much more comfortable. His heart began to thump in his throat. Would Cyrus agree to his request?

'What - What has happened to you, Harry?' Cyrus finally asked.

'That's a long story,' Harry said, and began to tell him what had happened that morning during his health check.

Not a muscle moved in Cyrus' face while he listened to the story. However, when Harry came to Griphook's refusal to lend him the gold, his look became calculating.

He didn't talk at once when Harry finished. He bent forward, his forearms on the desk pad, and folded his hands. 'I assume you expect me to give you the gold out of your grandfather's estate?'

'That would be very welcome, sir. At least if there's enough to cover the treatment.'

'Oh, there's more than enough.' Cyrus' voice was dismissive. He straightened and looked Harry square into the eyes. 'However, my conditions haven't changed.'

Invisible iron clamps seemed to tighten themselves around Harry's chest. He took a laboured breath and gaped at Cyrus. Surely he hadn't heard him right? The man wasn't going to blackmail him, was he? Time slowed down while he tried to find his voice. A fly buzzed against the window pane over and over again in a futile attempt to get out. Other than that, no sound was heard in the tiny study.

Harry's heartbeat raced. He sympathised with the poor fly. He also felt like running away, but was rooted to the spot.

'Do you mean you still want me to marry your daughter and become your successor to get the money, or you will let me die?' His voice didn't sound as if it belonged to him when he finally croaked his question.

'Exactly that,' Cyrus Greengrass said.

 _t.b.c._

 ***** The credit for the invention of the _Le Renouvellement_ Potion belongs to Shygui, including all the details about who invented it, how it is supposed to work and why it is so expensive. He used it in his amazing story _A Fateful Walk._ If you haven't read it yet, do it right now, it is worth it.


	15. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Shygui once again did a wonderful job editing this chapter. All errors that remain are mine.

Chapter **13** and **14** , 22/03/18

 **13**

Which ever sadist thought that young witches still needed to have the same accomplishments as their great-grandmothers and great-great-grandmothers ought to be given a reality check on life in the twentieth century. Daphne stared down at the messy piece of cloth she called her embroidery, and let out a deep sigh. Once again she'd messed up the colours, and her stitches were crooked and raggedy.

As with every morning, she and her sister were working on their 'accomplishments', as the silly tradition that forced young girls to learn a lot of pointless things were still venerated by the older generations. They sat in Astoria's room on the second floor of _The Rectory_ , next to Daphne's. Astoria loved to look over the park while she worked on her embroidery, and Daphne couldn't care less where she had to endure this hour of torture, so the arrangement suited both sisters just fine.

Daphne cast a jealous look at Astoria. Her hands moved the needle deftly through the immaculate white linen on her lap and created another masterpiece Mother would parade around when her female friends came to tea.

'How are you doing that, Astoria?' she asked.

Astoria laughed. 'It's genetic, I guess.'

Daphne sighed again. 'That explains why I'll never be a true Pureblood lady. I can't do embroidery, I can't paint, I can't sing and I can't play the piano or harp. I'm such a disappointment for poor Mother.'

'But not for Father,' Astoria said, her head still bowed over her work. 'You are everything he wished for in his heiress: you are disciplined, a good student, magically powerful and more than just interested in leading the family business one day and now dipping your pinky finger into politics. On top of that all, you hardly ever contradict him.'

'You mean, I'm too cowardly to do so,' Daphne said, and unravelled the threads of her embroidery.

Astoria raised her head from her work and gave her a shrewd glance. 'Cautious, Daph, not cowardly. You know how and when to pick your battles with him.'

Daphne's cheeks grew warm. Astoria looked up to her and always saw the best in her. If only she could be as sure that she'd be able to stand up against Father when it counted. She opened her mouth to reply, but the chiming of the ward bell interrupted them.

The sisters exchanged a look. The sound of the bell indicated that it was a friend of the family, however, it was still too early for the fashionable visiting hour of the upper class Pureblood women.

'Who might that be?' Astoria asked.

'We'll find out in another minute,' Daphne said. She stuffed her embroidery into the small basket by her side, not caring whether the linen became crumpled or the threads tangled up even more. She stood up and walked to the door.

Astoria giggled. 'Don't get caught peeping. Mother will have kittens.'

'I won't,' Daphne said. She cast a Silencing Spell and a Disillusionment Charm on herself and slipped out of the door. Astoria's laughter followed her.

Daphne hurried down the hallway and the stairs as quiet as a mouse. On the first floor hallway she halted, and cast the Homenium Revelio Spell at the door of her parent's bedroom. It came up empty, and she let out a breath. Mother was already downstairs and wouldn't catch her when she left her bedroom. Good.

She dashed quietly down the remaining steps to the small landing between the ground floor and the first floor, where the stairs turned, and pressed herself flat against the wall. From here the door to the formal sitting room was in plain sight. Any visitor who hadn't an appointment would be brought to that room first. Father hadn't mentioned any appointments for today at breakfast. He'd said that he needed to write a couple of letters, pertaining to the magical part of Crystal Fairy, before he'd start his day at the Muggle headquarters in London.

She didn't have to wait long before she heard the light pitter-patter of Matty's feet as she went from the kitchen to the vestibule. The distinct creaking as she opened the door that led from the hallway to the vestibule was hard to miss. The creaking didn't sound again, what meant that Matty had left the door open. Perfect; she'd be able to listen into Matty's conversation with the visitor.

Matty opened the front door. Slow, dragging steps scrunched on the gravelled path between the gate and the front door. 'Is Mr Greengrass at home, Matty?' a male voice asked. 'I have something of importance to talk about to him.'

Daphne managed to stifle a gasp. She'd have recognised that voice anywhere. Harry! Her heart missed a beat, then jumped to her throat. She cupped her cheeks in her hands that were all of a sudden cold and clammy. What did he want from father? After the outcome of their last talk she'd thought they'd never again see him at _The Rectory._

She listened how Matty invited Harry into the house and led him down the hallway. The dragging steps came closer. In a few moments they'd round the stairs to get to the door to the formal sitting room at the bottom of the stairs.

There he was. An icy hand grabbed around her heart. What had happened to him? His head looked like a skull, and his clothes hung down at his body. Though almost everything of him was covered, it seemed as if his arms and legs were mere sticks. His hands looked like they belonged to a skeleton. She covered her mouth with both hands to suppress the cry of horror that welled up in her throat.

Matty ushered Harry into the sitting room, closed the door behind him, and scampered to Father's study to announce Harry.

Daphne leaned back against the wall. Her legs trembled and threatened to give out under her. She needed to get a grip on herself. Harry looked as if he needed help, and she wouldn't be able to help him if she fainted like a damsel in distress at the first signs of trouble.

She took a deep breath and straightened up. She'd find out what was going on, and help Harry as best as she could. But how? It was unlikely that she'd be asked to the talk between Harry and Father.

She furrowed her brows and pondered the problem at hand. The corners of her mouth curved up in a sudden smirk. Thank Morgana, magic had a nifty spell for almost everything. She slipped her wand out of the invisible holster on her forearm and waited.

It didn't take long until Matty returned. She opened the door to the formal sitting room. 'Master is ready to see the great Harry Potter.'

Harry walked out of the sitting room. A faint blush tinted his cheeks. Daphne smiled, despite her worry for him. How endearing was it that the praise of a house elf made him blush? But she had no time to dwell on that thought. She raised her wand and cast a Bug Charm on him. It had been one of the first family charms Father had taught her outside of the Hogwarts curriculum. Now she'd be able to listen into Father's conversation with Harry, at least for the thirty minutes the charm lasted.

There was no need to stay on the landing and risk being caught by Mother. She hurried up the few remaining steps to the first floor and slipped into the guest room next to her parent's master suite. There she sank down into an upholstered chair beside the window and listened,

Harry stopped in front of Father's study and took a deep breath. The door opened.

'Mr Harry Potter, Master.'

A few steps - Harry's? The sound of the closing door. Then nothing. She strained her ears. Was that the scratching of a quill? - Yes, it was.

A grim smile played around her mouth. So, Father was playing the waiting game that was intended to turn the victim into a blubbering mess as soon as he deigned to speak to him. It had worked on her when she was younger, until she'd looked through his act.

A mirthless giggle escaped her. Good luck using this tactic with Harry. Father was tough and had next to no scruples when it came to the wellbeing of his family. But he didn't possess the intimidatory meanness of Snape, or the inherent vileness of Umbridge. He did what needed to be done, but he did not necessarily like doing it. Harry had dealt with Snape and Umbridge. He had never cowered in front of them, and therefore it was likely there was little Father could do that would intimidated him. The lasting silence confirmed her reasonings.

The scratching of the quill stopped. There was a rustle of fabric, and a faint squeak, as if someone sat down on a wooden chair.

Still, nobody spoke.

'What - What has happened to you, Harry?' That was Father's voice, but it sounded strange, as if he'd suffered a shock and was still trying to digest what he saw. She didn't blame him. Harry looked like the walking dead.

'That's a long story,' Harry said. 'I had my Auror health exam this morning. I haven't been feeling well and I've been losing weight ever since the Battle, but I managed to cover up my unhealthy appearance with Glamour Charms and Illusion Charms. I thought I could make it through the exam that way, but the healer saw right through me. Suffice to say that I didn't get cleared to join the Aurors. The healer thinks my condition is the result of long-term exposure to Dark Magic. Well, actually I've been exposed to Dark Magic ever since the night my parents died.'

Her eyebrows shot up at that. What by Morgana had happened to him?

'That probably explains my condition. The exposure ended when Voldemort died. However, the healer told me that after long-term exposure there are always repercussions for the victim. In my case, every part of my body is afflicted. It's so bad that my magic can't heal my body anymore. I'm going to die in approximately three months, at the most, if I don't get treatment.'

'No!' Daphne cried out, and clapped her hands in front of her mouth. That couldn't be true. Tears welled up in her eyes. Hadn't he had to suffer enough in his life? Why did these things always happen to him? At least he'd spoken of a treatment, so there was hope he'd make it through this ordeal. She let out a shuddering breath and focused on the disembodied voices.

'There's a potion that can help me: _Le Renouvellement._ I don't know if you ever heard about it,' Harry said.

Daphne had. Though she was no prodigy in potions, she was well versed in the subject, out of an interest in the company she'd inherit one day. It was the most expensive and most complicated potion known to magicalkind. That the healer suggested it, spoke volumes about the condition that Harry was in.

'I need at least one million Galleons for the treatment,' Harry said in Father's office. 'Unfortunately, I had to use the content of my trust vault, the one I inherited from my father, to pay for the damages that I caused when I broke into Gringotts to get the - well never mind. Suffice to say it was necessary, as it cleared the way to one of the obstacles we need to remove on our way to bringing Voldemort down. Anyway, that vault is empty. I tried to lend the gold from Gringotts, but they don't want to accept my promise to pay them back when I come into the inheritance left to me by my grandfather.'

Another silence settled on Father's study.

There was the rustle of robes. 'I assume you expect me to give you the gold out of your grandfather's estate?' Father said.

'That would be very welcomed, sir. At least if there's enough to cover the treatment.'

'Oh, there's more than enough.' Father's voice sounded dismissive. 'However, my conditions haven't changed.'

Daphne's chest tightened, and her mouth hung open. Had she heard Father right? Was he going to blackmail Harry? Ice seemed to spread from her stomach, twisted out through her veins and eventually covered her body.

The seconds ticked by and turned into minutes. No sound could be heard from Father's study except the buzzing of a fly. Her heart thumped heavy in her breast while she waited for Harry's reply to Father's atrocious demand.

''Do you mean you still want me to marry your daughter and become your successor to get the money, or you will let me die?' Harry said. His voice sounded hoarse.

'Exactly that,' Father said.

She had heard enough. Maybe Father wasn't willing to raise a finger for Harry without something in return, but she was. She cancelled the charms on herself and Apparated back to Astoria's bedroom.

Astoria started and let out a small cry when Daphne appeared by her side. Her hand flew to her throat. 'Merlin, Daph, can't you come in through the door like a well-bred human being?' She looked at Daphne's face and frowned. A look of concern appeared in her eyes. 'What has happened?'

Daphne slumped down in the chair beside her and told her what she had overheard.

The expression on Astoria's face became darker by the minute. However, when Daphne ended her tale, she looked outright furious. Her hands grasped the arm rests of her wheelchair until her knuckles stood out white. 'Has it ever occured to you that our father is an arsehole, Daph?'

Daphne let out a bitter laugh. 'Oh, often. But it was never directed at someone I … well … love, so I just went along with it. But this time he's gone too far.'

Astoria nodded. 'Most definitely. What are you going to do now?'

Daphne jumped up from her chair and paced the room. 'Try to find a way to raise the gold, I guess. How much have you left in your vault?'

'About one hundred thousand Galleons, I think. It's yours when you need it.'

Daphne cast her sister a warm smile. 'Thank you, Tori. I have a little more than one hundred thousand Galleons in my vault. Do you think the Goblins will be willing to lend eight hundred thousand Galleons to me?'

The soft _POP_ of an elf Apparition prevented Astoria from an answer. 'Master asks Missy Daffy to join him in his study,' Matty said and disappeared.

Daphne started. Now the day had come, she would go against Father's wishes for a first time. She wouldn't allow him to treat Harry like a piece of merchandise, and she most definitely wouldn't allow him to make herself a part of that despicable bargain. There was a limit to her daughterly obedience. Her breast heaved, and she balled her hands into tight fists.

She raised her chin. 'Wish me luck,' she said to Astoria, and walked out of the room. She marched down the hallway and the stairs. In front of Father's study she paused for a second and knocked, opened the door before he called her in and walked into the room, chin held high, and her mouth pressed in a thin, hard line.

If Father was surprised by that unusual behaviour of hers, he didn't let on. Instead, he gave her a broad smile. 'Ah, Daphne. Thank you for answering my request that promptly.' He motioned her to sit down.

She obeyed and tried to gauge his mood. He looked like the Kneazle who had had caught the Golden Snidget.

'Harry came to talk to me this morning,' Father said.

She sat very rigid, as her governess had taught her, and as her fury made her. At his words, she raised her hand to stop him. 'I know. I've seen him, and I've cast a Bug Charm on him, so I know what a despicable offer you made to him. How could you, Father? And how could you ever expect I'd be a part of that bargain?'

Father became tense, and his eyes widened. He stared at her for a few seconds, but eventually he relaxed, and a low rumble rose in his chest. 'Well, well, well, you are every inch my daughter, Daphne. Though, I wouldn't have thought you had it in you to cast a Bug Charm on your beau to spy on me. Well done!'

Her hands balled to fists in her lap, and her teeth clenched. 'Well done! That's all you've got to say? I've heard every word that's been spoken in this room, Father. Harry is dying. You can prevent that outcome if you agree to give him access to the income from his estate. Merlin knows there's more than enough to pay for his treatment. Instead, you withhold what is his from him, and blackmail him into following your demand. That's despicable, Father. You're toying with his life!' Her sight was blurred by tears, and she blinked them away. She wouldn't break down crying in front of him. He couldn't do that to Harry, and she'd make him see reason.

The humorous expression vanished from Father's face. He narrowed his eyes. They were as cold as ice. 'I am not toying with him, daughter. It is his choice if he will live or not.'

The hairs on her arms stood up, and her insides became cold. For the first time, Father's steely will was directed at her. She took a deep breath and raised her chin. 'You forget that you also need my consent, Father. I won't give it.'

The ice in his eyes didn't melt. 'In that case you'll be condemning the man that you profess to love to his death, daughter, not me.' His voice sounded dispassionate, as if he was stating a fact like the weather.

She stared at him. 'So, you're not only blackmailing Harry, but also your daughter?'

Father didn't answer to that, neither did his gaze soften. 

'Shall I take that as your final word on the subject Father?'

'Absolutely,' Father said.

His serenity made her want to slap him. She rose from her chair. 'Well, it's not mine. I won't give in without a fight, Father.'

She walked to the door, paused, and turned around. 'You know, Father, I don't think I will ever forgive you for this. You're condemning both of us to a soulless marriage. I have always tried to understand your motives, but this, this is heinous and I hate you for it.'

She walked out of the room. The door shut behind her with a satisfying bang. She took a deep breath, spun on the spot and Apparated away.

 _t.b.c._


	16. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** A big thank you toShygui for editing this chapter. All errors that remain are mine.

Chapter **13** and **14** , 22/03/18

 **14**

Cyrus Greengrass stared at the door that had just banged shut behind his oldest daughter.

How dare she defy him? He'd raised her better than that. From the day she was born he'd taught her how important the interests of their family were. She knew that her own wishes and feelings were insignificant, compared to the well-being of the family as a whole. She could count herself lucky that Fate decided to give her the man she longed for.

But no, the little miss had to throw a temper tantrum and storm out of the room.

He rose to his feet and turned to the window. It was another wonderful early summer's day. It seemed as if Mother Nature was celebrating with them over the downfall of that monster. He looked down at the colourful flower bed in front of his window, but his brain didn't register what his eyes saw.

Where had he failed? Should he've been harsher with her? He'd always shied away from the means other Pureblood men employed to secure the compliance of their daughters. Daphne had been his joy and the apple of his eyes from the moment the midwife had placed the little, red-faced bundle into his arms. Never before had he felt such a rush of helpless love overwhelm him as in that moment.

When Daphne grew up, he'd not once regretted she wasn't the son he and Isabella had hoped for. She was everything a proud Pureblood father could wish for: diligent, disciplined, interested in the family business, and always willing to listen to him and accompany him while he worked. On top of that, she was magically powerful and a good student.

Who cared that she wasn't male? She was destined to marry the Potter heir, anyway. Both his father and Uncle Fleamont had urged him and James to renew the marriage contract they had made for their future children. That had never come to pass. Whilst James and himself were inclined to give in to their father's wishes, Isabella and Lily had been dead set against it, and there were just some arguments he didn't feel inclined to have with his wife. However, the two of them had agreed to raise their eldest children with the prospect of inducing a match, should they happen to be a boy and a girl, and wait and see what became of that.

Fate had decided otherwise. James and Lily had gone into hiding for reasons they never disclosed to him. Not even two years later they were dead, and their son grew up cut off from the magical world. He'd never forgive Dumbledore for that. He and Isabella would have loved to take the boy in, but Dumbledore refused. Security reasons, he'd said. Unfortunately, he probably had a point there, so he'd agreed not to search for the boy, although his instincts had told him otherwise.

The news Daphne brought home about the boy as soon as they'd both entered Hogwarts confirmed his doubts. Yet he had bowed to Dumbledore's wishes - as so many had in their world. However, the boy had grown up to become an extraordinary young man. He had the best of both of his parents in him. James had been like a little brother to him, and Lily had become his little sister in the short time he'd known her. He'd be honoured to welcome their son into his family.

Unfortunately, the two young people concerned had to be the most obstinate, pigheaded individuals known to magical kind.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. They were more alike than they knew and would make an impressive couple. Why Harry insisted on remaining with that ill-bred and Quidditch obsessed Weasley brat when he could have Daphne was beyond comprehension, just as it was beyond comprehension how a gentleman like Arthur Weasley could have fathered his four youngest children. They probably took after their mother, Molly Prewett, that ill-mannered harpie.

His face hardened. Daphne and Harry were meant for each other, and he'd fulfill the wish of his father and godfather, whether they liked it or not. There had been just enough fear in both of their eyes when he told them of his final decision that he knew they'd eventually cave to his demands - kicking and screaming, no doubt, but they would both come to see reason.

If that meant he had to blackmail the son of his godson and his beloved daughter, and endure their hatred until they accepted their fate, then so mote it be.

A knock at the door interrupted his musings.

'Come in'

The door opened, and Matty scampered into the room. 'Mr Nicky Greco, master.'

Greco? They didn't have an appointment, so what brought him here? Did he have news on the girl?

'Tell him I'm happy to see him, but I don't have much time before my next appointment, Matty.'

Only minutes later Matty led Greco into the room. Cyrus rose from his chair, and they shook hands. 'Nicholas, what an unexpected visit. Do you have news about the girl?'

Greco nodded while he sat down on the chair Cyrus offered to him. 'Indeed. I have proof that she is still with her lover. I managed to catch them red handed last night. Here is my report.' He pulled a folder out of his briefcase and pushed it across the desk towards Cyrus. 'Photos included, of course.'

'As always, Nicholas, I expect that you delivered nothing less than thorough and exemplary work,' Cyrus said, but refrained from opening the folder and inspecting the evidence. There might be aficionados of wizarding photos of steaming teenage sex, but he didn't belong to them.

Greco inclined his head, indicating that the work was to his usual standard, as well as accepting the minor praise offered.

'I of course will arrange for your usual fee to be deposited into your account , and will call on you again when I need your assistance.' Cyrus gave his own small nod, acknowledging the professionalism and dedication shown by the man.

Greco stood, gave another small nod, and took his leave.

Cyrus sat at his desk and looked for a long time at the folder in front of him. What should he do with it? It wasn't necessary anymore to present it to Harry, the boy was already backed into a corner and would do what he expected from him.

Of course, the folder would be prime blackmail material against the girl, too, should she decide to meddle more with Harry's marriage than he was willing to tolerate. He would point both eyes the other way, should Harry decide to keep her as his mistress, and so would Daphne. She had been raised as a Pureblood woman and knew her duties. However, the girl was a wild card, given her upbringing.

Yes, he would keep the evidence and not hesitate to use it against the girl, should she cross the invisible line.

His mind made up, he locked the folder into his filing cabinet and left his office.

 _t.b.c._


	17. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Another big thank you to my fabulous beta Shygui. He is amazing!

Chapter **15** to **17,** 03/25/18

 **15**

Harry dragged himself to the back door of _The Burrow._ The sun went down behind Stoatshead Hill in another display of fiery beauty. It seemed as if nature was mocking his misery.

What was he supposed to do now? Damn Cyrus Greengrass and his blackmail! How could he give him the choice between dying or marrying his daughter? At the moment he was hard pressed to decide which fate was worse.

He had to tell Ginny. Gad, how he hated to hurt her - yet again. How would Ron react when he found out that he'd dumped his little sister for a second time? What would Mr and Mrs Weasley say? He'd have to leave _The Burrow,_ of course.

Damn, was there really no way out?

His thoughts went round in circles ever since he'd left Cyrus Greengrass' study.

He'd thought of making his story public. The _Daily Prophet_ would have a field day, no doubt, that a scion of one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight tried to withhold what was his from the Chosen One. The same was probably true for the Muggle press. Crystal Fairy Beauty Products was a huge company, and news about a fight between the owners would damage their reputation.

However, there was a downside to this plan. Rita Skeeter would sink her teeth into the story like a shark who smelled blood, and paint him as the poor, mistreated hero. He'd had enough of that during the Triwizard Tournament and wasn't keen on a repetition. Damaging the reputation of the company in the Muggle world meant damaging his family's legacy. He didn't want that, either.

So, he had to choose: his personal happiness against his privateness and against his family's legacy.

However - who'd guarantee that Cyrus would cave in soon enough for him if he chose that course of action? He lived on limited time, after all. Three months, at the most, Healer Payne had said, and the potion needed a few weeks for brewing.

He'd spent the day walking around, Apparating to places that had meaning to him: the destroyed cottage in Godric's Hollow where everything had started, the graves of his parents - and Hogwarts. He hadn't entered the grounds, but stood outside the wards, staring at the castle and thinking about everything that had happened to him since his eleventh birthday.

At Hogwarts, he'd found Ginny. She'd made him happier than he'd been ever before in his miserable life. Now that happiness was going to be taken from him.

He'd spent another hour sitting in front of the graves of his parents, trying to figure out what they'd tell him. They'd sacrificed their own lives so he could live.

He couldn't throw away the sacrifice they'd made for him; not if there was a way out. Was he being selfish? Was he taking the easy way out? What was wrong and what was right in this situation?

His stomach rolled, and his hands were clammy and cold. Merlin, he'd rather face Voldemort once again than going to have this talk with the Weasleys.

He took a deep breath and pushed the door open. As he'd expected, the family was in the kitchen.

Mr Weasley sat at his usual place at the head of the table. Mrs Weasley stood at the stove, stirring something in the iron cauldron, and directing a knife cutting a loaf of bread with her wand. No doubt she was going to serve them another delicious, home-cooked meal soon, but today the smell that wafted through the kitchen from the cauldron made the bile rise in his throat.

Ginny and George sat side by side on the bench, their heads bent over the newest issue of _Which Broomstick?_ and squabbled over the advantages of the new Nimbus 3000 over the Firebolt.

The door fell shut behind him. Everybody looked up.

Mr Weasley lowered his newspaper onto the table. There was a grim expression around his mouth, and his face had suddenly turned very pale.

The hand that held Mrs Weasley's wand became slack. The knife clattered to the ground, and her cauldron of stew was forgotten as she gaped at him, her eyes almost bulging out of her head.

Ginny and George stared, open mouthed. George averted his eyes first and buried his face in his hands.

Ginny, however, kept staring at him, her eyes blazing. She was the first to break the silence.

'What has happened to you?'

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but in the quiet kitchen it seemed unnaturally loud.

Harry dragged himself to the bench opposite of George and Ginny. He sat down, his shoulders hunched, and hid his trembling hands under the table, between his knees he had pressed together to keep himself from shaking.

Mrs Weasley sat down beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. 'Harry, what's the matter with you? You look horrible. I'm going to call Poppy; she'll set you to rights in a jiffy.' She rose from her seat, but Harry put a hand on her arm and held her back.

'Don't, Mrs Weasley. There's nothing Madam Pomfrey can do to help me.'

She sunk back on her seat. 'What -'.

He held up his hand to interrupt her. 'This is very hard for me, and I only want to tell this story once, so please, don't interrupt me.'

Everyone nodded. 'Of course, mate,' George said. Ginny kept quiet, still regarding him with that blazing look.

Harry shuddered. Was she going to burn him alive? He suppressed a nervous giggle.

Halting at first, he began his tale. He told them how he'd become weaker each week that had passed since the Battle, and how he had hidden his appearance from them with Glamour Charms and Illusion Charms. When he described his talk to Healer Payne, Mrs Weasley broke out into tears and took him in her arms. She didn't crush him, but held him as gentle as a fragile little bird: it said more than words about her concern for him.

'There has to be a treatment,' she said. Big tears rolled down her cheeks that had become thin and pale since Fred's death.

'Yes, there is,' he said.

Mrs Weasley heaved a big sigh and smiled at him. 'Well, then everything will be alright.'

He let out a mirthless snort.

Ginny gave him a strange look and turned to her mother. 'Don't get your hopes up, mum. I think there's a snag that comes with that treatment.'

Harry sighed. 'You have no idea how right you are, Ginny.' He extricated himself from Mrs Weasley's arms as gentle as possible. 'There is this potion, _Le Renouvellement._ '

George's head shot up at that, and he stared at Harry. The rest of the Weasleys, however, looked blank.

'I see you've heard about it,' Harry said. No surprise there. During their Hogwarts days, the twins had downplayed their prowess, and sailed through schoolwork with as little effort as possible, while they concentrated on research for their joke products. Considering what they'd come up with for their shop, they had to be much better at Potions as they ever let on.

George nodded. 'It's devilishly complicated to brew, needs a lot of rare ingredients and is the most expensive potion imaginable.'

'You've summed up everything correctly,' Harry said.

Ginny gasped. She had her hand pressed before her mouth and stared at Harry. When she caught his gaze, she lowered her hand. 'How much?'

'One million Galleons, at the minimum.'

His answer was met with silence.

'The Goblins emptied the vault I inherited from my father, so I don't have the gold at hand,' he said into the silence. 'However, I was told that I inherited a small mountain of gold from my grandfather.' His heart began to thump hard in his chest. How would they take the news? 'Unfortunately, that gold is under executorship.'

'That's why Cyrus Greengrass wanted to talk to you, isn't it?' Mr Weasley said.

Harry nodded. 'Yeah. Apparently, the Greengrasses and the Potters have been business partners and friends since the times of my grandfather. Cyrus is the executor of my grandfather's will. He's willing to give me the gold, but he's got certain demands.'

'What demands?' Ginny asked. Her voice was sharp.

Harry looked at her. Her face was flushed, and there was a strange gleam in her eyes. They exchanged a long look. He didn't need to tell her; she remembered what he'd told her about his first meeting with Cyrus, and the demands he'd made.

Her parents and her brother looked at him, confusion on their faces.

Harry rubbed his face with the palms of his hands. He lowered his hands on the table and looked at the Weasleys. 'In exchange for the gold, he wants me to become his successor at the company he leads, and I … I have to marry his oldest daughter.'

' _ **What?**_ _'_ That was Mrs Weasley. Her face had become rather red, and her body trembled. She jumped up and fumbled with the strings of her apron.

'What are you going to do, Molly?' Mr Weasley asked. He sat up straight and looked at his wife, his eyebrows drawn together.

'I'm going to give this scum a piece of my mind,' Mrs Weasley said. Her apron had come down, and she marched to the fireplace.

George and Ginny stared at her, open mouthed.

Mr Weasley sprang up and held her back. 'Don't, Molly. It's never a good idea to jump into a fight without knowing all the facts.'

She glowered at him, but relented, and sat back at the table with a huff.

Harry reached out with his hand and touched her arm. 'Thank you, Mrs Weasley. It means a lot to me that you're willing to fight for me. But I don't think it'll be of use. Cyrus Greengrass doesn't strike me as the kind of man who changes his mind very often.'

'I'm afraid you're right with that,' Mr Weasley said.

Mrs Weasley looked from Harry to her husband. 'But - Are you going to give in to this atrocious demand without a fight?'

Mr Weasley sighed and rubbed his forehead with a hand as if to wipe away an oncoming headache. 'Of course, Harry could sue him for the gold. Unfortunately, with the Death Eater trials still underway, such a case wouldn't be dealt with before autumn. Harry doesn't have the time for that, I'm afraid.'

Silence settled down on the homely kitchen of _The Burrow._

Harry cast a glance at Ginny from the corner of his eyes. She was still rather red in the face, and looked down on her hands that were clenched together so that the knuckles stood out white. When she felt his eyes on her, she looked up. Their gazes locked.

Her face was hard, and there was a scorching heat in her eyes that engulfed him like a wall of fire. Was that hate? Impossible; his sweet, caring Ginny wasn't capable of hating someone.

She kept staring at him, and he averted his eyes. He had failed her for a second time. She had every right to be furious with him.

'What about the Ministry?' she asked. Her voice sounded strange, clipped and cold. 'Can't they help Harry?'

Mr Weasley let out a mirthless laugh. 'The coffers of the Ministry are empty, Ginny. As it is, Kingsley is governing with gold that was lent to magical Britain by the ICW. There is no room in the budget for a loan of one million Galleons. Do you have an idea how much gold that is? It's about ten percent of the gold the Ministry generated in a normal year prior to the two wars.'

'I see,' Ginny said. Her voice still had that clipped quality. 'What about a fundraiser to get the gold Harry needs? He's the _Chosen One_ , after all. People would be happy to help him.'

Harry frowned. He didn't like the way she had emphasised his hated monicker. It sounded - off, but for the life of it he couldn't place his finger on what it was exactly that rubbed him the wrong way.

This time, it was George's turn to snort. 'Sorry, sis, you need to do the math before you suggest things like that. Thanks to the two wars in quick succession, the magical population of Britain has dropped down to about ten thousand wizards and witches, children included. That means everyone would have to pay at least one hundred Galleons. That's about as much as most wizards and witches earn within a month, not to mention that we have the biggest economic crisis since the end of the war with Grindlewald. About twenty percent are out of work.'

Ginny stared at Harry. 'What are you going to do?'

He returned her gaze. This was it; he had to come clean with her. Gad, he hated to do this to her.

'I don't want to die, Ginny.'

'Of course not!' Mrs Weasley flung her arms around him and broke out in tears.

Ginny still stared at him, her jaws clenched. The expression in her eyes was unreadable.

She jumped to her feet, her hands balled into fists. 'I hate you!' she screamed, and ran out of the house.

Everyone froze.

The sound of the door slamming shut reverberated through the quiet kitchen.

 _t.b.c._


	18. Chapter 16

**Disclamier:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** A round of applause to Shygui, please. He does a wonderful job.

Chapter **15** to **17,** 25/03/18

 **16**

The evening sun cast long rays of golden sunshine over the city. The unruly surface of the river reflected the light of the sinking sun in millions of sparks. The scenery had an almost mediterranean, easygoing feel. Tourists and citizens alike ambled on the promenade alongside the river, enjoying the view and the beautiful weather.

Daphne sat on one of the benches that lined the pedestrian walkway at Victoria Embankment, her back hunched and her face hidden in the palms of her hands. Her feet hurt from a long day walking through the city aimlessly, while she racked her brain for a way to help Harry, and came up empty at every turn.

The Goblins had downright laughed at her when she asked for a loan. She had tried to plead with them, but to no avail. In the end, they had threatened to let her throw out of the bank by a Goblin guard if she didn't give in and leave.

Ever since then, she'd walked through the streets of London.

Each plan crazier than the next had led her to a dead end.

Harry didn't have the time to sue Father for the gold. He'd be dead before even the case would be treated at court. From her discussions with Father she knew the Ministry was not in a position to give him a loan. Fundraising would never bring the needed amount of gold - and Harry would hate the attention. She probably could sell the story to the newspapers. It wouldn't bring all the gold Harry needed, but perhaps enough to keep him alive for the time being. Also, there was the added benefit it would spite Father and force him to relent in the end; after all Father hated public attention as much as Harry did. However, it would hurt the reputation of the company and most likely lead to job losses. There was no way she'd let innocent bystanders suffer from this.

She had to make a decision.

A snort escaped her. Who was she fooling? Her decision was obvious, wasn't it? As if she'd let Harry die.

If Harry agreed to that atrocious plan of Father, she'd marry him.

Hot tears welled up in her eyes and trickled through her fingers. She'd never imagined this outcome.

This marriage was going to be a disaster before it even began.

 _t.b.c._


	19. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** A big and heartfelt thank you to Shygui. Not only he picks up my grammar mistakes, he's also giving valuable advice on the plot, and keeps a keen eye on the things I forgot to mention and/or explain. You rock!

Chapter **15** to **17,** 25/03/18

 **17**

Diagon Alley was still rather crowded when Ginny appeared on the public Apparition point. Many wizards and witches had taken advantage of the beautiful weather and were strolling through the alley, doing some window shopping on this balmy summer evening. The outside sitting areas of the only cafe and the restaurant Diagon Alley offered were well attended.

She took a quick look around. Shit! There was only little hope nobody would recognise her when she walked down the alley. Her red hair was a dead give away. However, she had to take the risk. She needed to see him. They needed to make new plans. Damn, why did Harry have to screw up her life like this - once again?

She lowered her head and hurried down the alley, mindful not to bump into anyone and raise any unnecessary attention. When she reached the small passage between the bakery and the adjoining house, she vanished around the corner as unobtrusive as possible. At the entrance to the backyard she halted and looked back, her wand at the ready. Had anyone followed her? In that case, she'd cast a Confundus Charm on them and deal with the repercussions later. At least the alley teemed with so much magic that the Ministry wouldn't be able to tell that she'd been the one who'd used underage magic, just that it had been used.

A few minutes passed by. When nobody appeared at the entrance of the passage, she let out a deep breath and looked over into the backyard. It was empty. The houses around the backyard shut out the evening sun and cast the backyard in a blue light. She sprinted across the open space and flew up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time.

She knocked. Thank Merlin, he opened almost immediately.

'Ginny? I didn't -'

'Shhh!' She glared at him and slipped into the flat.

He closed the door and turned around to her. 'Not that I'm not happy to see you tonight, love, but what brings you here? Didn't we decide that it's too risky to come here when it's not yet dark?' He bent down his head to kiss her.

She braced her hands against his chest to forestall him, slipped past him and slumped down into a chair of the small eating area next to the old-fashioned stove. 'This is an emergency,' she said. 'We need to talk and make new plans. Harry's screwed up everything.' Her hand played with a teaspoon that laid on the table, beside a half-emptied mug of tea.

'What do you mean: Harry screwed up everything?' He sat down opposite of her and put his hand on hers.

She let go of the teaspoon and laced her fingers with his. 'After Wonder Boy gave up the content of his vault to the Goblins without a fight, he discovered that he is severely ill and needs an extremely expensive treatment for that, or he'll be dead within three months. Suffice to say that he didn't make it into Auror Academy, either, because of it. Lucky for him, he still has the gold from his grandfather's estate. Unfortunately for him, Cyrus Greengrass has his hands on the estate, and isn't willing to give him the gold without certain… stipulations being met.'

His eyebrows rose at that. 'And what would that be?'

Ginny grinded her teeth. Her fingers tightened around his.

'Ouch, you don't have to take your anger out on me,' he said, and withdrew his hand.

She deflated. 'Sorry, love.' She took his hand in hers, raised it to her mouth and gave him a small kiss. 'There, I've made it all better.'

He snorted. 'You do know, I'm not a three year old, right?' His face sobered. 'Out with it, Ginny, what has you so riled up?'

She let go of his hand and sprang up. She crossed the small room with a few long strides and looked out of the tiny window, her back turned to him, yet still mindful not to be seen from the street in the waning light of the evening. Her hand clenched the fabric of the curtain. 'In return for his agreement to release the gold, Greengrass has demanded that Harry will become his successor at the company and...' Her voice faltered.

'And what?'

Heat flashed through her body, and she tensed. Damn Cyrus Greengrass for fouling up her plans. Double damn Harry for being so indifferent about gold that he gave everything he had to the Goblins, and now had to give in to Greengrass' machinations. She whirled around, her hands balled into fists. 'He demands that Harry marries his wallflower of a daughter.'

He stared at her, his mouth agape. 'You're taking the mickey.'

'I wish I was.' All of a sudden, the tension left her body, and she returned to the table.

He reached out with his arms and pulled her on his lap.

She sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. 'What are we supposed to do now?'

'Regroup and adjust our plans to the new development,' he said, wrapped his arms around her, and gave her a kiss on the forehead. He shook his head. 'I can't wrap my head around that. The slob and the prim Pureblood princess; come off it! This is going to be a match made in hell. They'll forever be at their throats.'

Ginny jerked her head up, tilted her head, and looked him in the eyes. 'Really?' That would be too good to be true.

'Absolutely! Can you imagine two people as different as those two?'

He had a point there. A reluctant smile crept across her face. That served Harry right. He'd made her the happiest she ever felt, only to condemn her to loneliness, despair and torture. She'd never forgive him for that. If she played her cards right, she even might be able to give him a taste of his own medicine...

A hand cupped her face. 'A Knut for your thoughts,' he said.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. 'I was just thinking about how nice their honeymoon will be if the groom is still pining for his ex.' She gave him a light kiss on the lips.

His response was less than enthusiastic. He furrowed his eyebrows, biting his lips, and scrutinised her face. 'Are you sure you are over Harry Potter, love?'

'I am.'

His eyes darkened.

Damn, her response had been too fast. She threaded her hands through his dark hair. 'I got over him once, and I'll get over him again, thanks to you, love.' She looked him deep into the eyes. 'The first time, I didn't give up on him. The second time, however, I have. The way he discarded my feelings and my loyalty to him when he broke up with me he doesn't deserve me. But that doesn't mean that I have given up on getting my fair share of his fortune.' She flashed him a broad smile.

'I'm all ears, love,' he said, and tightened his arms around her.

'Well, he's going to marry the little blonde mouse, but that doesn't mean that he has to let go of me. As soon as he's fulfilled his duty and fathered an heir, he can divorce her, and marry his true love - me, who patiently waited for him.'

He tilted his head back and laughed out loud. 'Remind me never to cross you, love. I had no idea you can bear a grudge that long. You're downright frightening, you know that?'

 _t.b.c._


	20. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** A big thank you to Shygui, who edited this chapter.

Chapters **18** to **20** , including Bonus Chapter, 29/03/18

 **18**

Night had settled down on _The Burrow,_ calm and balmy. The wind had died down when the sun set behind Stoadshead Hill, and the ancient apple trees stood motionless against the starry sky. Everything was quiet, except for the crickets chirping in the unkempt grass under the trees of the orchard.

Ginny hadn't returned yet. As soon as he'd recovered from his shock after her outburst, he'd jumped up and ran after her. He'd been too late: he had come out just in time to see her turn on the spot outside of the wards and Apparate away.

Harry looked up into the nightly sky. He hadn't even tried to go to sleep tonight. He lay on his back in the soft grass of the orchard, listened to the sound of the crickets, and tried to find some comfort in the sweet smell of the grass below him.

He wasn't going to search for Ginny. She would need some space to come to grips with the fact that she'd lost him for a second time, this time for good. He wouldn't be of any use for her, anyway. He couldn't comfort her - not anymore. The less they saw of each other from now on, the better. Maybe her pain would go away - eventually. Even though she'd cried she hated him that wasn't true; it was her hurt and pain that had spoken, and her Weasley temper had made her lash out at him.

He sat up as he heard soft steps in the grass behind him and turned around. It seemed he was not the only one with sleep problems tonight.

Mr Weasley sat down beside him. 'Would you mind if I keep you some company, Harry?'

He shook his head. Heat crept into his cheeks. Thanks Merlin it was dark, so Mr Weasley wouldn't see him blush. What in Godric's name was he supposed to talk about with the father of the girl he had just left to marry another girl?

Mr Weasley cleared his throat. 'Look, Harry, I know that you're hurting. That's only natural in your situation, I guess. I also don't want to marginalise your feelings, but I wanted to tell you one thing: this is not the end of the world.'

Harry turned his head and looked at Mr Weasley. 'What do you mean by that?' Was Mr Weasley going to give him the same kind of prep talk he got each year from Dumbledore? A pat on the shoulder and a few platitudes? Merlin, he could do without that.

'I've watched you and Ginny together ever since the Battle,' Mr Weasley said. 'While I won't deny that you care for her deeply, I'm sure you don't love her, Harry.'

Harry froze. Mr Weasley had no idea what he was talking about. After all, he'd intended to propose to Ginny as soon as possible. Didn't that show he loved her?

Mr Weasley put a hand on his shoulder. 'If you're honest with yourself, Harry, you'll admit that it's the thought of being a part of a big family that attracts you to Ginny. I've seen that wish in your eyes ever since you came to visit us for a first time.'

He opened his mouth to protest. That definitely was not the reason why he felt attracted to Ginny. She was fun and a damned good flyer and Quidditch player. Besides that she was a wonderful kisser and felt just right in his arms.

But Mr Weasley beat him to that. 'There's another point to consider. You probably won't like it, but that doesn't change the fact that as the Vanquisher-of-Voldemort you're going to hold a position in our society one day very similar to the one previously held by Dumbledore. Even if you are unaware of it, you are already using the weight of your public face to influence the public towards the changes that you want to see in our world.'

Of course not! He hated to be in the limelight. 'I'm not,' he said.

Mr Weasley's teeth gleamed in the darkness, the only hint that he was grinning. 'But you are, Harry, even if you don't see it. For example, what about the two interviews you gave after the Battle?'

Harry opened his mouth, and closed it again. Damn it, the man was right. In both interviews he'd stressed that changes needed to be made, and what he thought some of those changes should be, in the full knowledge that people would listen to what he had to say and potentially act on his recommendations.

'Yeah, you're right,' he said, and sighed. 'But what's that to do with Ginny and me?'

'Well, I love my daughter very much, but as much as I would like to, even I can't deny that her interests are rather limited. There isn't much beyond flying that she cares for. She certainly doesn't care for Ministry politics. You, on the other hand, plan to join the Ministry as an Auror. Whether you like it or not, Harry, that will push you into the political arena. I've also no doubt that you'll be offered a seat on the Wizengamot as soon as you're twenty-one. You will need a woman by your side who will support you in your political career; and have no doubt Harry: there is as much politics in the Auror department as there is in the Wizengamot. As much as it pains me to say it: Ginny is not made for that role.'

'I'm sure she'd have grown into it,' Harry said. 'But that's a moot point now, isn't it? Are you trying to tell me that Greengrass is better suited in that regard?'

'Much better,' Mr Weasley said. 'She's been brought up for that role, as her father's heir she would have known what her role was to be from a very young age. Look, Harry, I know you're heartbroken, and you'll probably hate me for what I tell you now. You had to grow up without your father, so let me give you the advice he'd have given you today. We all have to go through a heartbreak when we're young; it's a rite of passage, like measles for the Muggles. Hardly anyone marries his first girlfriend.'

He squeezed Harry's shoulder. 'You'll get over Ginny one day, Harry. All I ask of you is not to take out your disappointment on the Greengrass girl. She doesn't deserve it, and is in all likelihood being pushed into this like you. Allow yourself to give your relationship a chance; you never know, maybe you and Miss Greengrass can have something incredibly special.'

He gave Harry's shoulder another squeeze and got up.

Harry's eyes followed him as he walked back to the house. Mr Weasley was the closest thing to a father figure he knew. Sirius had always acted like a mate. He'd tried, but he'd always seen James in him. Getting advice in what he thought of as one of the worst times of his life meant a lot to him.

Mr Weasley was right, it would be unfair to take out his disappointment on the girl. But he was also dead wrong: he'd never get over Ginny.

 _t.b.c._


	21. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J..K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Thank you to Shygui for editing this chapter. You are the best!

Chapters **18** yo **20** , including Bonus Chapter, 29/03/18

 **19**

The last time he'd felt a sense of hopelessness like this was when he walked into the clearing in the forest to face Voldemort. Back then, he'd known that everything would be over within the blink of an eye: the flash of a green spell, followed by nothingness.

Dying had been a piece of cake, as Sirius had said, compared to what he was going to do right now: he was going to shackle himself for life to a girl, a girl he'd not spoken to once outside of class. Of all the dangerous adventures he'd been through in his short life, this was the most daunting one. What if they couldn't stand each other from the very beginning? What if she was secretly in league with the Death Eaters? Would he have to sleep with his wand in his hand from now on? Shit, from their wedding night on they would share a bed! His heart plummeted into the deepest pit of his stomach.

He snorted. What an idiot he was! It was a bit late to think of that complication, wasn't it?

'The great Harry Potter, Master,' Matty said, and held the door to Cyrus' study open for him.

Harry's heart thumped in his breast like a hammer on an anvil. Nevertheless, he thanked the small creature with a smile as he stepped into the room. He'd rather die than to let Cyrus see how shaken he was.

Cyrus sat behind his desk, but rose when Matty closed the door, and gave him a polite handshake.

'I see, you've come to a decision, Harry.' He motioned with his hand to the uncomfortable visitor chairs.

Harry braced himself. Now was the time for some expert acting. Cyrus might have the upper hand for the time being, however, that didn't mean that he'd be his puppet. He hadn't given in to Voldemort, and he wouldn't give in to Cyrus Greengrass. He raised his chin at Cyrus, slipped his wand into his hand, gathered his magic, and cast a silent Cushioning Charm on both chairs.

The charm would be as good as permanent, thanks to his power as the master of the Elder Wand, but also thanks to the power the Elder Wand had transferred to his own holly and phoenix feather wand when he had used it to repair his wand. He'd discovered his increase in magical power a week after the Battle, and so far hadn't discussed it with anyone, not even Ginny or Ron and Hermione.

Let's see how Cyrus would deal with that when he discovered it. He bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from grinning.

Cyrus' eyebrows went up at his actions, but he didn't comment. Was there a hint of admiration in his eyes? It was hard to tell; it was gone within a split second, and his face was that bland wall once again.

Harry slid the wand back into its holster and sat down. For nothing in the world he was going to show Cyrus how much this talk was terrifying him. He leaned back in his chair, his arms on the armrest, and crossed his legs. As long as he didn't start to bop his leg up and down, he'd look nonchalant and calm that way - at least he hoped so. He looked Cyrus in the eyes. 'Well, yes. You didn't leave me much of a choice, did you? Since I'm not inclined to bite the dust anytime soon, I'm going to accept your most generous offer.'

If Cyrus felt offended by the unveiled sarcasm in his voice, he didn't let on. A broad smile appeared on his face. 'That's wonderful, Harry. I'm sure you're never going to regret your decision.'

Harry didn't answer. At the moment, it was hard to share Cyrus' optimism.

'However, before I call my daughter to this meeting, I need to be sure that you'll keep your part of the bargain,' Cyrus said.

The breath caught in Harry's throat. What did Cyrus want from him? 'Do you want a magical oath?'

Cyrus shook his head. 'No, tricky business they are, and most likely will come back to bite us. I want your word, Harry, your word as a man and an honourable one, that you agree to marry Daphne and stay married to her until at least one heir is born to you from your union. I don't care whether it's a boy or a girl.'

That sounded reasonable. 'You have my word on that,' Harry said.

Cyrus gave him another broad smile and clicked his fingers.

Matty appeared beside him with a soft _PLOP._

'Please, ask Miss Daphne to join Mr Potter and me in my study,' Cyrus said.

The elf nodded and Apparated away.

Harry put both feet on the ground. There was no way he wouldn't start bopping his foot if he kept his legs crossed while he waited for his future wife. He put his hands on his thighs, palms down. Why were they that sweaty all of a sudden? He subtly flexed his fingers, and dried them on his robes with the miniscule movements.

Silence descended on the small room. The blood rushed in Harry's ears, and his heartbeat sped up at an alarming rate. Dizziness overcame him. He blinked; he was not going to faint on his future wife! He concentrated on his breathing: in … and out - in … and out, slow and deliberate. His heartbeat slowed down, though it still was so loud he was sure Cyrus must hear it.

There was a soft knock on the door. Harry's heart jumped in his throat and stayed there, pumping hard.

'Come in,' Cyrus said.

The door opened. Cyrus rose to his feet. Harry followed his example and turned around. For the first time since the Sorting in his first year he took a deliberate look at his future wife.

At the Sorting, she'd been an eleven year old on the smaller side, and cute in the way all little girls were cute. Her long, blonde hair had been held back by a bandana, and the Sorting Hat hadn't needed long to put her into Slytherin. She'd seemed to be rather pleased about that.

She hadn't changed much since their first day at Hogwarts. She was still on the smaller side: the top of her head just reached his nose. Her straight hair had darkened slightly. It now had the colour of ripe wheat and was still held back with a bandana, and fell down past her shoulders to her waist. The skin of her unmoved oval face was clean, with no trace of freckles, and as white as a sheet. She had delicate eyebrows over eyes as blue as the sky, a straight nose, and full, pink lips that were shaped slightly upwards at the corners of her mouth and gave her face the appearance of a permanent smile, though her eyes at this moment were cold and distant. She was a pretty girl, yes, but she had nothing on Ginny's vibrant beauty. She was the kind of girl who melted into the background and was always overlooked. No wonder he hadn't been able to match a face to the name when Cyrus' letter arrived.

'Thank you for coming that promptly, my dear,' Cyrus said. 'Daphne, allow me to introduce you to Mr Harry Potter. Harry, this is my oldest daughter, Daphne.'

'It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Greengrass,' Harry said, and kissed the knuckles of the hand she held out to him. Mr and Mrs Weasley had drilled him that morning at breakfast about how to behave when he met his intended bride for the first time.

Her fingers, clammy and cold, trembled in his hand. So, she wasn't as aloof and indifferent as she appeared to be?

'The pleasure is all mine, Mr Potter.' Her voice was flat.

With the introductions out of the way, Cyrus motioned them to sit down. Harry waited until Daphne sat down, and used the time to take another look at her.

Her eyes widened for a split second when she sat down and noticed the Cushioning Charm on the chair, and she shot him a scrutinising glance from under her eyelashes. The next moment, however, her surprise and curiosity was overcome by the seriousness of their situation. She pressed her knees together, and clenched her hands in her lap. No, she definitely wasn't calm about this.

Cyrus cut the crackle straight away. He turned to his daughter. 'My dear, as you know, Mr Potter and I have been negotiating a union of our families in marriage, and we have come to an agreement. Mr Potter asked for your hand in marriage. How is your answer to that offer?'

Harry bit his tongue. Neither had there been any negotiations, nor had he offered for Greengrass' hand in marriage. What a farce this meeting was!

He examined his bride-to-be from the corners of her eyes. She sat very straight.

Her bland face betrayed no emotion at all, but her eyes were two blue shards of ice as she looked at her father. 'I am honoured, and I gladly accept Mr Potter's offer.' Her voice still was void of all emotion, however, her hands, clasped together until the knuckles stood out white, told another story.

How much say had she in this so-called negotiations? There was no way to ask her in Cyrus' presence. Later, maybe.

'I am honoured by your trust in me, Miss Greengrass,' he said, as Mr Weasley had instructed him.

She didn't answer, nor did she look at him.

'Wonderful,' Cyrus said into the silence and rubbed his hands. 'Congratulations to both of you. Today is a lucky day for our families.'

That still remained to be seen. Harry clenched his teeth.

Cyrus turned to Harry. 'We have a lot to talk about. No offense meant, Harry, but I guess you don't have much time to lose to get your treatment under the way, so I'd suggest a wedding at the earliest date possible. I hope you understand that I won't give you access to anything before you two have taken the vows.'

Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest and scowled at Cyrus. 'I didn't expect anything else, Cyrus.'

'The wedding will take place in the park of _The Rectory,_ as is the custom for the girls of our family. Closest family only, I think. Also, I think it's better not to announce the engagement. That will cause too much unwanted attention. I'm going to send the announcement of the wedding to _The Daily Prophet_ afterwards, together with the notice that you're on honeymoon in France. Is that alright with you?' Cyrus asked.

Harry nodded. He couldn't care less about the details of the wedding.

'Of course, Father,' Greengrass said.

'Good. You are my heir, Daphne. Instead of the customary dowry you'll receive the usual stipend as the heir of the house of Greengrass from the day of your wedding until you both take control of the company from me. For you, Harry, I'll make the same provisions I made for your father when he married your mother. However, I think it advisable that you live with us at _The Rectory_ following the wedding.'

Harry froze. No, by no means! He didn't want to live under the same roof as his in-laws. Given how this marriage started, and considering his temper, he was probably going to explode at some point, sooner rather than later, if he didn't have some space. He and Greengrass would never have a chance at a proper relationship if they had to begin their married life under the close inspection and constant meddling of Cyrus Greengrass. 'Didn't you say something about a few Potter houses I could take my pick from when we first met?' he asked.

Cyrus gave him a close lipped smile. 'That's true, but things have changed significantly since then, don't you agree?'

Heat flashed through Harry's body. He glared at Cyrus and clenched his fists. The next thirteen years until he'd be independent seemed a very long time.

'Besides that, it's only a hop and a skip from here to Canterbury University, where you both will begin your studies in September. Not to mention that you need to be in close proximity to me, since I'm going to be introducing you to your duties as my successor.'

Harry gritted his teeth until his jaw hurt. So, Cyrus had already planned what he was supposed to do in September? There was little he could do about Cyrus meddling in his life and about the Potter houses, at least not as long as Cyrus held the executorship. He'd have to talk to Greengrass during their so-called honeymoon. Maybe between them they'd have enough Galleons to rent a cottage or a flat somewhere. Or would Cyrus cut off the gold if they moved out?

Greengrass gave him a short side glance. He couldn't read her expression. She cleared her throat and straightened. 'I don't agree with that, Father.' There was more than a hint of steel in her cold voice.

Harry turned his head and stared at her. Was that the same girl that had entered the room? Well, at least she seemed to agree with him on that point, though she most likely had her own reasons for that.

A faint blush dusted her cheeks. She looked straight at her father, but her hands twisted in her lap.

'Look, Daphne -' Cyrus said.

'No, Father. I want my own house.' The steel in her voice became more pronounced.

Father and daughter exchanged a long, hard stare. Cyrus was the first to avert his eyes. 'You and Harry need to live close to me because of the reasons I explained, Daphne. What else do you suggest?'

Harry sucked in a sharp breath. So, his daughter was Cyrus' weak spot? That was good to know.

'What about _The Coach House_? It's been empty ever since great-great aunt Marigold died. We'd be living next door, but would have our own house,' Grerngrass said.

Cyrus gave a slow nod. 'That would work.'

Greengrass jutted her chin ever so slightly, and the corners of her mouth turned upwards.

Cyrus took a sheet of parchment out of the drawer of his desk. He dipped the eagle-feather quill into the silver inkwell and wrote a few paragraphs. 'I've written down the points of our agreement,' he said, and handed the parchment to Harry.

Harry took the parchment from him and read it. The agreement was short and to the point. It covered everything they had agreed on, and there seemed to be no hidden catches.

He nodded his consent and handed the parchment to Greengrass. 'Is that alright with you?'

Her head jerked back, and she blinked while her mouth formed a silent "oh", took the parchment out of his hand, and read it thoroughly. 'I agree,' she said.

Cyrus handed her the quill. She signed the agreement and pushed the parchment and the quill towards Harry.

He took a deep breath and scribbled his name beside hers. He closed his eyes for a brief second and breathed out. The deed was done. Had he sold himself to the devil? Only time would tell.

 _t.b.c_.


	22. Bonus Chapter

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

Chapters **18** to **20** , including Bonus Chapter, 29/03/18

 **A small bonus chapter for Shygui**

 **Hope you like it**

It was already late in the afternoon when Cyrus returned to his study. He sat down behind his desk and contemplated the events of the day, a satisfied smile on his face.

To be honest, when the hours passed yesterday and Daphne didn't return, he'd been concerned she'd found a way to get Harry the money he needed for his treatment. He knew his daughter, she was a resourceful and cunning young woman. If she had sold the idea to the newspapers, Muggle as well as magical, he would've been forced to yield immediately, or the damage to the family and the company would've been too big. Thank Merlin she had refrained from using this means, probably for the same reason.

He hadn't been so sure about Harry's decision, either. He'd put Greco on Harry's case as soon as he returned into the magical world, but Harry had been carefully guarded; even an investigator as skilled and cunning as Greco hadn't been able to find much more than the many rumours that surrounded the young man. However, together with what Daphne had told him about Harry, he'd had the impression it was almost impossible to force him to do something he didn't want to do.

On top of that, he was the epitome of a Gryffindor, proud and brave. He wouldn't have put it past the young man to tell him he'd rather die than yield to his demands. Of course, in that case he would've needed to find a way to get the money to Harry.

That also meant he would've needed to use the evidence Greco had collected about the Weasley girl to guide Harry into the right direction. He made a face at the mere thought. Ugh, that would've been an ugly business. No man, no matter how young or old, would react kindly if he was told he'd been cuckolded. Thank Merlin he'd been spared that.

His gaze fell upon the visitor chairs in front of his desk. Harry had cast a Cushioning Charm on them this morning. Most likely the charm had already expired, but he should make sure if that was the case. The uncomfortable chairs in both of his offices, at home as well as at the company's headquarters, were part of his time management. Nobody wanted to sit in them longer than necessary, which helped him to reduce his many meetings to the absolute minimum.

He cast a Detection Spell on the chairs. The chairs gave off a faint green light. Cyrus eyebrows rose up. So, the Cushioning Charm was still active? Well, that confirmed everything what he'd heard about Harry's amazing magical strength. What beautiful and powerful children he and Daphne would have!

Cyrus flicked his wand at the chairs to end the charm, and cast another Detection Charm to make sure Harry's Cushioning Charm had been taken down.

Again, the chairs gave off a faint green light.

This time, Cyrus' eyebrows almost reached his hairline. This was the first time in many years a silent spell didn't work for him. Harry must be even more powerful than the stories he'd heard led him to believe.

He flicked his wand again. 'Finite Incantatem.' This should have done the trick. With a smile, he cast the silent Detection Spell.

'What the hell!'

'FINITE INCANTATEM!'

This should be enough. He cast the Detection Spell. The soft green glow of the chairs mocked him.

' **Finite Incantatem!'**

He put a little more emphasis behind the vocal spell. Another Detection Spell made the chairs glow green once again.

'Merlin's beard!' Cyrus took a deep breath.

' **FINITE INCANTATEM!'**

Yet another time his shouted spell had as much impact as if a first year Hogwarts student had cast it. His eyes almost bulged out of his head as the chairs glowed in a soft, green light.

' **FINITE INCANTATEM!'**

Again, he shouted the spell, and again his Detection Spell came up with the result he'd dreaded. He took a deep breath, gathered his magic and concentrated on his intend to rid the chairs in front of him of that blasted Cushioning Charm.

' **FINITE INCANTATEM! FINITE INCANTATEM! FINITE INCANTATEM!'**

Sweat beaded on his forehead, his heart raced, and he breathed hard, as if he'd just ran a mile. Now the damned Cushioning Charm should be gone, or his name wasn't Cyrus Greengrass.

He took another deep breath to recuperate, then cast the Detection Spell.

The chairs glowed green.

Cyrus' mouth fell open. He gaped at the chairs for a full minute. This couldn't be true! Never before he had been unable to remove a spell!

A slow rumble began deep in his throat. The next minute, he laughed until the tears streamed down his face. Oh yes, Daphne had chosen well, Harry would be a son-in-law to be proud of. He never would have to worry if he was capable to protect his precious little girl, so much was sure. On top of it, he seemed to have inherited some of Jame's prankster genes. If James saw him now, he'd be howling with laughter.

He wiped his face dry with his handkerchief, flicked his wand, and Vanished the chairs with a silent spell.

'Matty!'

 _PLOP_

'What can Matty do for Master Cyrus?'

He heaved a deep sigh. 'Please, get me two wooden chairs from the attic. And no word of this to anyone!'

 _t.b.c._

This is a little something that obviously isn't necessary for the storyline, but Shygui had a good laugh speculating about Cyrus' reaction to Harry's Cushioning Charm, so I decided to write it as a Thank You for all the work he put into my story.


	23. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** I can't repeat it often enough: thank you for Shygui for editing this chapter. That man is a heaven sent.

Chapters **18** to **20** , including Bonus Chspter, 29/03/18

 **20**

Daphne stared at herself in the mirror of her vanity as she brushed her hair, as she did each night before she went to bed. The events of the day played before her inner eye over and over again. So, she was engaged to Harry Potter. She should be over the moon, shouldn't she? Instead, there was only - emptiness. How was she supposed to go on from here?

A knock on the door startled her out of her morose thoughts.

'Come in,' she said.

The door opened, and Astoria rolled her wheelchair into the room. She was already dressed for bed, with a blue terry cloth bathrobe over her pyjamas, soft slippers on her feet, and her dark hair in a braid that hung over her left shoulder. She raised her wand at the door and closed it after herself with a silent spell, then turned to Daphne.

The sisters looked at each other in the mirror. 'How are you, Daph?' Astoria asked. 'And don't give me the dragon manure you told Mother in the drawing room today. I want to know how you really feel about your engagement to Potter.'

Daphne sighed and put the brush down on her vanity. She turned around on the stool to face her sister, her hands in her lap.

'You know, I've been asking myself that for the past ten minutes.' She bit her lower lip and shrugged. 'I feel - empty, if that makes any sense. Empty and scared to death.'

Astoria rolled her wheelchair closer to her until their knees were almost touching. She bent forward and put her hand on Daphne's. 'What is it you're afraid of, Daph?' Her eyes were dark and troubled.

Daphne sighed again. Could she dare to confide into Tori? Tori was so fragile, thanks to the damned Blood Curse that ran in the Greengrass family. According to the healers she and her future children would escape the curse, and while she'd be forever thankful she'd been spared Tori's fate, she also would feel guilty because of it forever. The stress of the last year had wreaked havoc with Tori's health, and as a result she was now bound to a wheelchair.

'Quit the guilt trip on my behalf and tell me already, Ducky,' Tori said. She sounded impatient.

Daphne smiled at the nickname Tori had given her when she began to speak, and she pressed Tori's hand in hers. 'You always could read me like an open book, Ria.' She was barely two years older than Tori and had found her sister's name impossible to pronounce as a small child, so she'd shortened it to the last syllable. Mother had been horrified and corrected her over and over again until she could pronounce the name. Father, however, had been amused. A sharp pain shot through her. Best not to think of Father right now.

Tori snorted at that. 'That's easier than you think, Daph. I know that you like to present a blank face to the world, but I know how your mind works, so you can't deceive me. Out with it, what worries you?'

'Harry,' Daphne said.

Tori rolled her eyes. 'I thought as much. It's always about him with you. You need to be more specific, you know.'

'I never expected to marry him,' Daphne said. She took a deep, shuddering breath. She wasn't going to burst out into tears about this. 'It's not me he wants, it's the Weaselette, and I know that in his eyes I'll never be able to hold a candle to her. I never imagined Father would blackmail him into marrying me. During our talk with Father today I saw how angry and hurt he is. He'll always hold that against me, Tori. What if he hates me forever?'

 _t.b.c._


	24. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** As always, a big thank you to my fabulous beta Shygui.

Chapters **21** to **23** , 01/04/18

Happy Easter, or whatever you are celebrating around this time of the year in your corner of the world

 **21**

 _Plock!_

Harry shot bolt upright, wand in his hand, and looked around what had hit him. Where was he? Last thing he remembered was leaving _The Rectory_ after his talk to Cyrus and the signing of the marriage agreement between him and Greengrass - though he probably should think about her as Daphne from now on.

The meeting had taken a lot from him - too much, if he was honest with himself. He'd hardly made it to the Apparition point on the grounds of _The Rectory._ It was a miracle that he'd made it back to _The Burrow_ without Splinching himself. He'd needed some alone time, and instead of entering the house, he'd gone to the orchard and sat down below one of the ancient apple trees. He must have fallen asleep out of sheer exhaustion.

He took another look around. No living soul was near him. A balmy breeze rustled in the ancient trees.

 _Plock-plock-plock-plock-plock!_

Harry was pelted by a shower of dead baby apples. No attack, then. He slipped his wand back in its holster and laid back. His hands crossed behind his head, he went over the last events in his mind.

The deed was done. He as good as tied himself for the rest of his life to a girl he didn't know at all. Worst of all, he didn't know what kind of woman his future wife was. She seemed to be as excited to marry him as he was to marry her. Had she been forced into this marriage by her father? Would that make them allies or deadly enemies? He had no idea.

He sighed and rubbed his face.

At the sound of soft steps in the grass he sat up and looked over his shoulder.

Ginny walked towards him. She wore tight jeans and a cropped top, and her beautiful hair flew free over her shoulders.

The breath caught in Harry's throat. She was so beautiful - and lost to him forever. His heart hammered in his chest, and his eyes were glued to her face.

Ginny sat down beside him and put a hand on his shoulder.

His hand twitched, wanting to cover hers, wanting to hold to her and never let her go - but no, he didn't have the right to do that any longer. He clawed his hands in the grass beside him to keep himself from touching her. However, he couldn't stop himself from looking at her.

Her face was pale, and there were dark smudges under her eyes. He had no idea when she had returned to _The Burrow_ last night - or if she'd returned at all. He'd been too occupied with his own feelings of loss. What an insensitive, egotistical prat he was!

But what could he've done to make this any easier on her? The only thing he could do was to keep away from her, and hope she'll get over him and move on. She deserved to be happy.

The wind carried the sweet, flowery scent that was so typical Ginny to him. He closed his eyes. His hands clenched into the grass until they hurt. 'I'm so sorry, Ginny.'

The grip of her hand on his shoulder tightened. 'There's no reason for you to be sorry, Harry. Cyrus Greengrass ought to be sorry; he left you no other choice.'

He turned his head and looked at her. Her beautiful, chocolate brown eyes looked at him with that hard, blazing stare that never failed to shake him up. He clenched his teeth. This was like on his seventeenth birthday. She was suffering, but determined not to show. This time, however, there was no silver lining on the horizon. He wasn't going to return to her from the adventure he now embarked. A dull ache spread in his chest.

'I've signed the marriage agreement with Greengrass,' he said. Was that really his voice?

Her fingernails clawed into his shoulder. 'I thought as much,' she said. Her face was calm and didn't give away the hurt and loss he knew she felt. 'When will the wedding take place?'

'In about four weeks. My treatment will start immediately after that. I can't afford to put it off any longer.' His voice still sounded as if it didn't belong to him.

She nodded at that. 'What…' Her voice faltered, and she had to clear her throat. 'What are the terms of your agreement with Greengrass?'

Harry shrugged his shoulders. 'Rather straightforward and simple, I guess. I agreed to marry her and stay married with her until we have a child. That's all.'

Ginny's gaze became calculating. 'Did they demand a magical oath from you, or had you to sign the agreement with a blood quill?'

He shook his head.

A blinding smile lit up her face. 'But - That's wonderful, Harry!' She flung her arms around his neck and hugged him tight.

His arms encircled her on their own accord, and he pulled her close. She turned her face to kiss him.

Harry froze. What was he doing? He had no right to lead her on. He gently pushed her away, though every fibre in his body screamed no.

Ginny lowered her arms. All warmth seemed to leave him with that movement.

She looked at him, a pout on her face. 'Why are you doing that, Harry?'

'I fail to see what's so wonderful about my marriage agreement with Greengrass,' he said.

Again, she put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. 'You aren't bound by magic, Harry. That means you can leave her as soon as you've had the treatment.'

Harry startled. That thought hadn't occurred to him. But - 'I gave my word to Cyrus Greengrass that I'll keep my part of the bargain.'

Ginny stared at him. Her hand slid from his shoulder. 'Bugger. I know how irritatingly honourable you are, it's very likely that your magic will acknowledge that as a binding vow.'

'Yeah, I've thought of that myself already,' he said.

She edged closer and put her arms around his neck once again. 'Oh, well, in that case we'll have to wait until the baby is born, and you'll leave her afterwards.'

What? Each muscle in Harry's body tensed. He reached up with his hands and pulled her arms from his neck. How could she think he'd ever leave his child?

'Harry! What's the matter with you?' The pout on her face would've been adorable, if he hadn't been furious with her. He gritted his teeth.

'I'm not going to let my child grow up without a father, Ginny.'

She recoiled from him. 'But -.'

'There's no "but" about that, Ginny. I could never do that.'

She gave him another hard, blazing stare, sprang to her feet, and ran away.

His eyes followed her, his body tense. Did she know him so little that it never occurred to her that it was impossible for him to break his word or leave his child?

The sound of the back door of the kitchen banging shut startled him as the noise reverberated through the garden.

Harry deflated. He shook his head. No, he was being too harsh on her. He'd hurt her deeply, for the second time. She was probably clutching at every straw she could find, no matter how flimsy it was. He couldn't blame her for that. After all, everything was his fault, wasn't it?

He palmed his face in his hands. Tears pricked behind his eyes. He squeezed them shut and bit on his lips until the urge to break down subsided.

Ginny must hate him now. His heart plummeted into the deepest pit of his stomach. He took a deep breath. That was good, wasn't it? It would help her to overcome their separation.

He was the one that decided to break into Gringotts… if he hadn't there was a good chance they'd all have been killed by Tom by now. He'd have to hold onto this thought and try to find strength in it, though right now he had no idea how he was supposed to move on.

 _t.b.c._


	25. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Many thanks to Shygui, who betaed this chapter.

Chapters **21** to **23,** 01/04/18

 **22**

Was it really July already? Was today really his wedding day? Harry reached up with his right hand and pinched himself into his left forearm - hard.

Ouch, that hurt. So, it was real. Not dreaming, then. However, the unrealistic feeling stayed as he looked out of the window of what was supposed to become his and Daphne's future bedroom at _The Coach House._ His eyes wandered about the walled-in and well-kept kitchen garden that spread around the house.

 _The Coach House_ was attached to the main house and surrounded by the enclosed patio at the front and the walled-in garden at the back: a virtual prison, albeit a beautiful and rather luxurious one.

He turned around and looked at the room. During one of the few "dates" he and Daphne had had under the watchful eyes of her mother to get to know each other, Daphne had told him that _The Coach House_ needed to be refurbished. She'd asked him for his favourite colours and preferences. He had had no opinion to offer; after all, what did he know about interior design? He only knew that he didn't want to live in a house as bland and artificial as Privet Drive number four.

His bride had good taste, he had to admit. The room had the same cosy feel as the Gryffindor dorms, though she'd chosen a deep burgundy red for the hangings on the dark four poster bed and the curtains, and the cords and tassels that held back the curtains were a silvery grey.

The door opened, and Bill Weasley entered the room. 'Are you ready?' he asked.

Harry grimaced. 'As ready as I'll ever be, and that means not ready at all.' He walked to the wardrobe and pulled the hanger with his wedding robes from it. They also were Daphne's choice, as everything else was. However, he could live with the colour: a deep midnight blue. He shrugged into the robes and adjusted his matching tie. 'Ready.'

Bill stepped towards him and put a hand on his shoulder. 'I'm honoured that you asked me to be your best man, Harry. I know how much you'll miss Ron today.'

Harry shrugged. 'There's no way an owl would've reached him and Hermione in time. Besides that, you know how important it is for Hermione to find her parents. The last seven years have always been about me and my problems. I couldn't come between Hermione and her parents, I'd never forgive myself for that.'

Bill squeezed his shoulder. 'You're a good friend. You know that Ron and Hermione wouldn't have minded.'

Harry only nodded in response. Yeah, they'd have stopped looking for Hermione's parents and returned to England in a heartbeat, had he asked them. However, there was no denying that he was relieved that they weren't here at the moment.

He loved his best friends dearly, but he had no illusions about their faults. They'd have driven him up the walls: Ron would've resented him making Ginny unhappy, and Hermione would've wanted to analyse his feelings about his forced marriage over and over again, while she researched every source known to her for a way to help him escape his fate.

No, it was a relief they weren't here today. This way, he'd have time to adjust to his new life before he had to deal with them.

Aloud he said, 'If I can't have Ron with me, I'm glad that you agreed to be my best man, Bill. I've always wanted a big brother like you, and believe me, today I need one, or I'll be running for the hills.'

Bill's face became hard. 'I imagine. The way you are treated by the head of this family…' His voice trailed off, and he gave Harry's shoulder another squeeze. 'You know that you'll always be a honorary Weasley, little brother.'

Harry reached up and put his hand on Bill's. 'I know. You have no idea how much that means to me. And in case I forget later, I want to thank you and Fleur for everything you've done for me over the last few weeks.'

Bill patted him on the back, and then led Harry out of the room.

The Weasleys had been great to him during the last four weeks. After the signing of the marriage agreement and his last encounter with Ginny he had decided to leave _The Burrow._ Mr and Mrs Weasley, however, didn't want to hear anything of that. They had not only insisted that he'd stay with them until the wedding, they'd also taken on the role of the parents of the groom as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Mrs Weasley had even gone so far to invite the Greengrasses to dinner one night. Despite the awkwardness of his betrothal, the evening had been a success, thanks to Mrs Weasley and Mrs Greengrass' determination to make everything seem normal. Ginny had not been there, while George, Bill and Fleur, and even Percy and his girlfriend had been in attendance and supported him.

Fleur had been great. She and Daphne had hit it off at once, and Fleur had welcomed his bride-to-be into the family as her honorary sister-in-law. Had she done that to spite Ginny? Probably; she and Ginny still didn't get along.

However, he hadn't had much time to think about the changes in his life. The day after the signing of the marriage agreement he'd made an appointment with Healer Payne. As a result, he'd spent the next days in a hospital room at the _Hotel Dieu Magique_ in Paris, where Healer Petite had prodded at him until he had determined how to brew the potion.

They'd reached the small gate in the wall that surrounded the kitchen garden and stepped out into the park. The terrace of the main house was to their right. In front of them, a lush lawn sloped down to the lake. The white pavillon on the island in the middle of the lake was decorated with an abundance of pink and white roses. A row of chairs was set up around the pavillon. That was where the wedding would take place.

Harry and Bill walked down the gravelled path that led alongside the western boundary of the park to the lake.

'Harry, wait,' a female voice called behind them.

They turned around. Ginny stepped down the few steps from the terrace and walked towards them. Bill frowned, but said nothing as his sister came closer.

Harry gulped. His heart missed a beat and then jumped right in his throat. He licked his lips and walked a few steps towards her.

'May I have a word with you, Harry?' she asked as she reached him, and put her hand on his arm. She wore traditional teal coloured robes, and her gleaming hair was held back with silver combes. The sunlight strew fiery reflexes on it.

'Of course,' he said. He looked at Bill. 'Excuse us for a moment.'

The frown hadn't left Bill's face. He gave a sharp look from Harry to Ginny. His gaze lingered on Ginny, and the frown deepened. He opened his mouth as if to say something.

Ginny glowered back.

Bill shut his mouth with an audible snap. 'Alright. Two minutes.' He turned around and walked down the path until he was outside of hearing distance.

'I'm sorry, Harry,' Ginny said. Tears were in her eyes.

Harry moved forward and raised his arms to comfort her, but halted in his steps. He had no right to comfort her, not anymore. His arms dropped down by his side, and he slumped. 'No, Ginny, it is I who has to be sorry. I dragged you into my mess and hurt you, yet again. It's better if you don't see me anymore.'

'No!' Her reply was quiet, but determined. Her eyes blazed into his. 'I don't want to lose you, Harry! Yes, you have to marry her, but why does that have to change things between us? She has to know that you don't love her, and she knows that you were with me, so she can't expect that you're faithful to her.'

He blinked and took a step back. Her hand slid from his arm. 'Are you suggesting…'

'Yes.' She stepped closer, invaded his personal space. Her hand came up and played with the lapel of his robes. 'You only have to say the word, Harry.'

He closed his eyes, inhaled her sweet fragrance, and gulped again. It would be so easy, wouldn't it? He could have everything - his health, a family, and Ginny. But at which price? Did she have an idea to what a life she condemned herself, always in the background, never openly by his side? That wasn't the way he'd dreamed their life together to be. She deserved better.

He stepped back and loosened her hand from his lapel with his. He pressed her hand for a brief moment and let it go. 'No, Ginny, I can't do that. It wouldn't be right, for either of you. You deserve better than that, and Daphne -. Well, I have reason to believe that she doesn't like this marriage anymore than I do. Nevertheless, she agreed to marry me, and in doing so she's saving my life. While I don't think I will ever love her, I at least owe her to treat her decently.'

Ginny gave him a last, hard stare, then turned on the spot and walked away.

His eyes followed her until she vanished into the house. The ache in his chest was unbearable. His shoulders slumped, and he let out a sigh. He turned around and stumbled down the path until he reached Bill.

Bill caught him in his arms. "Careful, there, Harry. You don't want to dirty your nice robes by falling headlong on the path.'

Harry quirked his mouth into something he hoped looked like a smile. 'No, of course not.'

Bill wasn't deceived. He put an arm around Harry's shoulder and hugged him. 'I know you're heartbroken, little brother. However, you'll learn to live with that, just as you learned to live with all the other losses you've suffered. You are strong, Harry, you can do it again.'

'Yeah, of course.' He had to tell that himself a dozen times a day, and maybe it would become true one day. He took a deep breath and straightened. 'Come on, Bill. Let's get this show on the road.'

 _t.b.c._


	26. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** As always, a heartfelt thank you to my wonderful beta Shygui.

Chapters **21** to **23** , 01/04/18

 **23**

She stood at her bedroom window, hidden behind the curtains, and looked out onto the park and the festively decorated pavilion on the island. Everything was ready for her wedding - except herself. Oh, she was already dressed in her wedding gown, her hair done up, and exquisite makeup applied to her face by a stylist, but she'd never be ready to say her vows to a man who'd been blackmailed into marrying her and probably hated her for that.

Daphne took yet another deep breath and straightened. Of course she'd do what was expected of her. She was a Greengrass, she'd do what was best for the family. While she didn't agree with Father's reasonings, let alone his means, he was the head of the family and she owed him her obedience.

Not that it would have mattered if there'd been another way to help Harry.

At least Harry had agreed to have a child with her. A baby, no, his baby, would be a compensation for a loveless marriage, and maybe it would help Harry and her to bond eventually.

At a knock on her bedroom door she turned around. 'Come in.'

Father entered the room. His eyes lit up when he saw her. 'You are beautiful, princess.'

Sudden tears shot in her eyes. It had been his pet name for her when she was a little girl, but he'd never again called her by a pet name after she'd entered Hogwarts. Why did he do this to Harry and her? Surely he could have found some other way to achieve his goals.

Father held his arm out for her. 'Are you ready?'

She took a deep breath. 'Just a moment.'

She picked up her bridal bouquet from a low table near the window. An ancient looking house elf had delivered it to her that morning. 'Master sends this for future mistress with his regards,' he had croaked in a bullfrog voice. That had been a pleasant surprise. She hadn't expected Harry to do that, and already arranged for a bouquet made of flowers from the park being delivered to her by their gardener before the ceremony began.

She held the bouquet to her nose. It was made of sweet smelling, pink and white vintage roses. Someone must've told him her favourite flowers - or he just went along with the decoration theme. However, she decided to take his thoughtfulness as a good omen for their future.

'Now I'm ready.' On Father's arm she walked down the stairs and onto the grounds. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, and her legs were like jelly. Her eyes automatically sought out the raven-haired young man who stood beside the officiator. He had reapplied the Glamours and Illusion Charms, and in the deep blue robes she had selected for him he looked very sophisticated. However, there was no warmth in his eyes when she neared the pavilion on Father's arm. His eyes seemed to look straight through her, cold and expressionless, and his jaw was set into a taut line.

She blinked away the tears that welled up in her eyes. This was not the way she'd seen her future husband looking at her on her wedding day in her girlish dreams. She probably should count herself lucky that he'd shown up and didn't bolt for the hills.

They had reached the officiator. Father gave her a kiss on the forehead and put her hand into Harry's. His hand was cold and clammy, just like hers. He still looked right through her.

She suppressed a sigh, pulled herself together and turned to face the officiator. What did she expect? That he'd fall head over heels for her when he saw her in her wedding dress? The officiator began with the ceremony. She'd better concentrate on him. Mother would never forgive her if she messed up her vows.

The ceremony went by in a blur. Daphne gave the answers that were expected from her in the right moment, as did Harry. The latter was really amazing: he still looked completely zoned out. The officiator performed the bonding spell. The light was bright enough not to cause raised eyebrows, but she'd seen brighter ones at weddings.

'You may now kiss the bride,' the officiator said to Harry.

If he felt any revulsion, he at least didn't let it show. He bent down and gave her a short kiss. His lips were cold and impersonal. So much for the fireworks she'd dreamt of if he ever kissed her.

'Ladies and gentlemen, I present Mr and Mrs Potter,' the officiator said. There was the usual clapping and cheers, though they sounded rather meagre. They had only invited the closest family: her parents, Astoria, Mr and Mrs Weasley and the Weasley children who were in England. When she'd suggested to send an invitation to the relatives Harry grew up with, he'd almost bit off her head and clammed up. Obviously, there was some bitter history. Would he ever deem her worthy enough to tell her? Probably not.

Her parents were the first to congratulate, followed by Astoria. Mr and Mrs Weasley came after them.

Mr Weasley gave her the formal kiss on the knuckles and then kissed her cheeks. 'I wish you all the happiness in the world, Daphne.' His eyes were warm and caring.

His wife also did and said what was expected from her. She hugged Daphne and congratulated her, but her heart wasn't in it: her movements were stiff, and her eyes were guarded. However, she couldn't blame Mrs Weasley. The way she acted towards Harry made clear she saw him like an honorary son. As a mother, she'd also have been scared out of her mind for the future of her young in Mrs Weasley's stead.

The three Weasley boys and their respective partners were pleasant surprises. They all behaved perfectly polite and friendly towards her. Especially Fleur, who was quickly becoming the older sister she'd never had.

The Weaselette, however, was something else. She was the last in the reception line that had assembled in the formal drawing room of _The Rectory._ She barely touched Daphne's hand with hers and murmured something unintelligible. Her brown eyes stared at her with a venom that made Daphne shudder.

She suppressed a nervous giggle. If looks could kill, Harry would've become a widower on his wedding day. She watched how the redhead stepped to Harry, put a hand on his arm and gave him a lingering kiss on the cheek. Harry turned as pale as a ghost.

She averted her eyes; she had no right to invade his privacy. It was obvious that he still had strong feelings for the girl. Well, she wasn't in much of a position to complain about that, was she?

Oh, who was she fooling? It hurt like hell. However, Pureblood marriages hardly ever were made in heaven, and she'd been brought up she may have to tolerate the … indiscretions of her husband. She wouldn't object Harry continuing his relationship with the Weaselette - well, at least on the outside. Internally it would slowly kill her, but she'd tolerate it. If only she was convinced the girl was worth his devotion! That point was still very debatable.

Someone pressed a glass of elven champagne into her hand. Father made a toast, followed by Bill and Mr Weasley. She forced a smile on her face and did what was expected of her, her hand on Harry's arm. He felt as stiff as a board under her touch.

Astoria rolled her wheelchair next to her. 'Are you alright, Ducky?' she asked in a low voice, covered by the din of the many voices in the room.

She bent down to her sister and hugged her. 'I'm as good as can be expected, Ria,' she said into her sister's ear. 'Don't worry about me; I'll get through this.'

The small wedding party moved to the dining room. A delicious meal and more toasts followed. However, her throat was constricted, and she only brought down a few spoonfuls of the food on her plate. Beside her Harry didn't fare better; if out of nervosity or due to his condition was hard to tell. He hardly spoke a word to her throughout the meal.

Sooner than she was ready it was time to leave the reception and get changed for their honeymoon. As unobtrusively as possible she left the dining room and for a last time made the way up to her bedroom.

'A word, Greengrass,' a female voice said behind her as she reached the hallway in front of her and Astoria's bedrooms.

She turned around.

The Weaselette stood at the top of the stairs and glared at her across the hallway.

She braced herself. 'What do you want, Weasley?'

The girl stepped closer with swaying hips. An ugly sneer appeared on her face. What in the world did Harry see in that tart? Or was this a side of her she hid from him?

The Weaselette came even closer until she invaded her personal space. She stopped, her face not even one foot apart from Daphne's. She could smell the alcohol in the Weaselette's breath. Ugh, now she had to deal with the intoxicated ex of her husband on her wedding day. This was exactly what all new brides dreamt about.

However, when the girl started to speak, her voice was strong and clear, without any sign of intoxication. 'So, now you're the wife of the Chosen One, Greengrass. It's exactly what you wanted, isn't it?'

Daphne startled.

The Weaselette let out an ugly laugh. 'Oh, I've seen how you looked at him across the tables, Greengrass. You've pined for him for years. Well, I have to give to you: this round goes to you.'

She leaned closer; her nose almost touched Daphne's, and her eyes blazed. She raised her right hand, her index finger pointed out at Daphne. 'However, you'll never have him, not really. You know it's not you he loves, and I'll never let him go.' She accented each sentence with a jab of her finger at Daphne's breastbone.

'Whenever he touches you, whenever he kisses you, or whenever he sleeps with you, he'll be thinking of me.' She gave Daphne a last jab and a sneer and turned on her heels.

Daphne leaned with her back against the door of her bedroom. She trembled all over her body, her heart raced, and he crossed her arms over her midriff and hugged herself.

She had to pull herself together. She had to get ready: their Portkey to _Lutétia_ , the magical part of Paris, was due in not even an hour. She couldn't show herself in front of Harry in this distraught state; their first time alone together was going to be awkward, and she needed to keep her wits about her.

She took a few, calming breaths. The trembling subsided. There, that was better. She turned around and opened the door to her bedroom. In her room, she sunk down in her favourite chair next to the window.

Her reflection looked back at her from the mirror above the fireplace. Everything about her was pale and insignificant.

The Weaselette was right: she could never compete with her.

Daphne palmed her face in her hands and cried.

 _t.b.c._


	27. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** This chapter was edited by my wonderful beta Shygui. Thank you!

Chapter **24** to **26** , 05/03/18

 **24**

The Weasleys returned to _The Burrow_ in the late afternoon.

Mrs Weasley sat down at the kitchen table and kicked her high heeled pumps off her feet. 'Ahh, that's better. Well, in spite of everything, it was a nice wedding, wasn't it?'

Ginny made a face. 'If you say so. Excuse me, mum, I need to get out of these horrible robes and change into something comfortable. Do you mind if I visit with Luna afterwards? She's asked me to stay overnight.'

'Of course not, dear.' Mrs Weasley got up and gave her youngest a hug. 'I understand that you'll need the comfort of your friends tonight.'

Ginny returned the hug. 'Thank you, mum, you're the best.' She hurried up the stairs, a broad grin on her face. Mum was right, she needed comfort tonight. However, the comfort she had in mind wouldn't be anything mum would've approved of.

Thirty minutes later she stood in front of the familiar dark door. He opened the door at her first knock and pulled her into his flat.

'How was the wedding?' he asked.

'Horrible,' she giggled. She leaned her head against his chest and looked up at him. 'You should've seen them: they were both paralysed with horror.'

He shook his head at her. 'It's not nice to gloat about other people's misery.'

'They deserve it.' Her voice was sharp, and her eyes flashed. 'They've messed up our plans.'

He enveloped her in his arms and drew her closer to his chest. 'I take it that your last contingency plan with Potter also failed?'

She huffed at that. 'He's too noble to make me his mistress. Oh, and Greengrass doesn't deserve to be cheated on. Apparently he thinks her some kind of saint because she agreed to marry him and save his sorry arse.'

He grimaced. 'Ouch and double ouch. Firstly, someone forgot to remind him that the girl's a Slytherin? I was in the same house with her longer than I care to admit, and I know she'll have her own agenda. Secondly, was he really dumb enough to tell you that? I bet that went down well.'

Ginny tilted her head back and broke out into laughter. 'You know me too well, love.' She raised her hand and tousled his dark hair. 'Yes on all accounts. Oh, I know Greengrass' agenda. She's head over heels in love with him, has been since at least the Triwizard Tournament, maybe earlier. I've watched her often enough gazing at him across the tables with those big cow eyes to be sure about that.' Her eyes narrowed. 'Of course, I made them both pay.'

'You are a devil when your ire is provoked,' he said. 'What did you do to the poor sods?'

'Oh, I made sure that Harry will be pining for me for a very long time - and I made sure she knew it. Whatever happens in that marriage, I'm always going to be an invisible part of it.' She gave him a smug grin.

His face sobered. 'I thought you've given up on Potter? I've already arranged a tryout with the Taos Tornados for you, as you've suggested. Their trainer is looking for some fresh talents from the Old World.'

She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. 'You are wonderful.' She trailed the tip of her right index finger along his cheekbone and across his lips. 'Yes, I've given up on Harry, but as I've told you, I haven't given up on his gold yet. However, now is not the time for another try.' She paused. 'Let us proceed with the new plans we've made. He'll be fed up soon enough with plain Jane, I'm sure. That'll be the time for another try.' Her face hardened. 'However, before I make another move on Harry, Greengrass has to be out of the picture, I'm afraid.'

 _t.b.c_.


	28. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Thank you to Shygui for editing this chapter.

Chapter **24** to **26** , 05/03/18

 **25**

It was about mid afternoon when they arrived in the Portkey terminal of _Lutétia_ within the magical quarter of Paris. It was situated in the middle of the _Ile de la Cité_ , and hidden from the Muggles by a portal in an underground parking garage on the _Rue de Lutèce_ , behind a door that led to a maintenance room.

Daphne and Harry emerged from the underground garage into the bright sunshine of a July afternoon. Harry had been in Paris before for his preliminary examination and took the lead. 'It's down there,' he said. 'This street leads directly to the hospital complex. The main entrance, with the entrance to the court from where the magical part of the _Hotel Dieu*_ is accessible, is at the place in front of the _Cathédrale Notre-Dame_.'

Daphne only nodded to that. She gave Harry a surreptitious side glance. His face was ashen, and his jaw was set in a taut line. He had hardly spoken to her ever since they had met in front of _The Rectory_ to tell their guests goodbye and to take the Portkey. Not that she blamed him for that. Her stomach was tied up in a hard knot. Would the French healer be able to help Harry? If she felt like this, how must it be for Harry, who would submit himself to what was known to be one of the hardest treatments wizardkind had ever invented before another hour was over? What awaited them? Would he survive the treatment, as weakened as he was?

The French healer had told Harry he needed an anchor during the treatment, whatever he meant by that. Since this was supposed to be their honeymoon - at least in the eye of the magical public - they had agreed that she should take that role, whatever it was. Anyone else than his new wife would raise questions, and even more so if Harry's treatment ever became public. Though reluctant at first, Harry had agreed to the plan.

As they drew closer to the _Place Jean-Paul II_ in front of the cathedral, she turned her gaze to the _Hotel Dieu_ built alongside the left side of the square: a huge, uninviting block of brownish stone, darkened by the fumes of Muggle Paris, it seemed to loom over them.

Harry shuddered. Daphne's heart began to beat faster, and she reached out with her hand to him. Would he let her comfort him?

He did.

Her heart gave a little skip as his hand closed around hers. His fingers were ice cold, but he gave her hand a small squeeze as if in thanks, and kept it in a firm grip.

Their steps faltered until they drew to a halt; they looked at the building in front of them, and tried to find the courage between them to continue. Harry was the first to be ready. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. 'Shall we?' he asked. His face was a stony mask, but the slight quiver in his voice gave his fear away.

She nodded, and together they entered the hospital through modern sliding doors that were in a stark contrast to the ancient façade of the building. Harry had been here before and knew his way, so they ignored the reception desk and turned left. Going through another set of sliding doors they entered the courtyard.

Daphne stopped in her tracks. The courtyard was filled with sweet scented, colourful flowers, planted into a complicated pattern between low boxwood hedges. On two sides it was bordered by arched hallways.

It was peaceful here, peaceful and soothing. The tightness in Daphne's chest lessened, and she drew a deep breath.

Harry's stiff posture relaxed, although his eyes still remained dark and troubled. He turned his head to her. 'It's beautiful, isn't it?'

Daphne nodded. She pointed to a door that materialised out of the cream coloured stones of the archway on the opposite side of the courtyard. 'I suppose, that's the hidden entrance to the magical part of the hospital. Are you ready?'

'I'm as ready as I'll ever be,' Harry said, and gave her his lopsided grin, though it lacked a lot of its usual cheekiness.

They walked around the courtyard. The magical portal opened for them as soon as they approached it, and within the next second they found themselves in the entrance hall of the _Hotel Dieu Magique._

Daphne looked around. It didn't look much different from St. Mungo's. There were rows of chairs for wizards and witches waiting for treatment. About half of them were occupied. A young witch held a small boy in her lap who was emitting bright, blue bubbles from his ears. The bubbles rose up into the air, and burst right above the boy's head with a loud _Ping!_ The young mother had conjured earplugs for herself, and so had the wizards and witches around her. Not that she blamed them; the noise was already getting on her nerves.

She followed Harry to the Welcome Witch.

Harry cast a Translation Charm on himself. He looked at her. 'Would you like me to perform the charm on you?'

She shook her head. 'Thank you, Harry, it's not necessary. Mother insisted that Tori and I should learn French.'

Harry turned toward the Welcome Witch. 'Good morning. My name is James Evans. I have an appointment with Healer Petite,' he said.

She had warned him that Rita Skeeter had spies at St. Mungo's, so it was likely that the French press had similar informants in place. To keep his privacy, Harry had admitted himself to the hospital under an alias.

' _Bonjour, Monsieur_ Evans,' the young witch at the front desk said. 'Healer Petite is ready to see you. He's waiting for you in diagnostic room number four. Down that corridor, please.' She motioned with her hand to a corridor at the left.

' _Merci,'_ Harry replied, and turned away from the front desk.

Together, they walked down the corridor. Daphne's chest tightened once again, and she fingered her necklace. She cast a look at Harry. He held his head up high, but his gaze darted from one side of the corridor to the other, and there was a light sheen of sweat above his upper lip. Other than that, nothing in his demeanour gave away the anxiety he was feeling.

Diagnostic room number four was the last room on the left, before the corridor made a turn. Daphne motioned towards a couple of chairs opposite of the door of the diagnostic room. 'I'll wait here for you until your examination is over.'

Harry nodded. He was as pale as a sheet.

She stepped closer towards him, raised her hand, and put it on his shoulder.'You're not alone in this, you know.'

Harry stiffened under her touch, before he took a deep breath and nodded. The next moment he knocked at the door of the diagnostic room and was called in.

Daphne watched him disappear behind the door, and then plopped down in one of the chairs. She crossed one leg over the other and leaned back.

The examination lasted far longer than she thought it would. Daphne folded her hands around one knee while she waited. She would not look on her wristwatch again: she had done that an embarrassing number of times during the last hour.

At last, the door to the diagnostic room opened, and Harry came out, followed by a man in white healer robes who was at least six feet five tall. Her lips twitched; Healer Petite, indeed.

That remained to be the only humorous moment of the day.

Harry introduced her to Healer Petite as his wife. The Healer greeted her with a kiss on her knuckles, and then led them to a hospital room.

'I'll wait outside until _Monsieur_ Evans has changed,' he said and left the room.

Harry and Daphne looked at each other. A faint blush crept in Harry's cheeks. Daphne walked to the window and looked outside. 'Get changed,' she said, and kept her eyes trained on the dull courtyard below the window.

The quick rustle of his clothes behind her back indicated he got changed within record time. Well, their wedding night surely started unusual.

'I'm ready,' Harry said.

She turned around.

Harry leaned back in the cushions of a hospital bed, his upper body slightly raised. He was clad in one of his own pyjamas and had covered his body with a white blanket. He had cancelled the Glamours and looked like death warmed up.

Daphne took a better look around the room. For a hospital, the room was rather nice. There were tasteful drapes at the window, and comfortable looking, upholstered chairs stood at each side of the bed. Harry's nightstand was made out of mahogany, and so was the wardrobe at the far wall of the room. The marble top of his nightstand hosted an impressive looking number of potion vials.

Daphne sat down in the chair at Harry's left side. He gave her a small smile that didn't reach his eyes.

Healer Petite came back into the room. He took the first potion vial from the table top and handed it to Harry.

'This is a Stomach Soothing Potion, _Monsieur_ Evans. We don't want you to throw up the potions that do the hard work, _n'est-ce pas?'_

Harry grimaced, took the vial and downed it in one gulp.

Healer Petite handed him the next one.

Harry also downed it without pause. A violent shudder went through his body, and he closed his eyes.

Daphne tensed. She leaned forward and clasped his left hand that lay on the blanket between both of her hands. It felt clammy and cold.

Nobody spoke a word as Harry downed potion after potion. His breathing became more laboured with each vial he emptied. Daphne counted a dozen vials until she gave up. She shuddered. The state of Harry's body must be even worse than Healer Payne had told him. The number of potions he had to take was alarming, and each of them was supposed to take care of a different aspect of his body. Merlin, how ill was he? What if it was already too late for the treatment to work?

Finally, Healer Petite handed Harry the last vial. Harry's hand trembled when he put it at his lips. She reached up and steadied his hand. He gave her a weak smile of thanks and downed the potion. The empty vial slid out of his fingers. Daphne hurried to catch it, or it would have dropped onto the blanket.

Harry sunk back into the cushions and closed his eyes. A deep furrow appeared between his eyebrows and he let out a small grunt.

Daphne settled down in her chair and took his hand between hers. She almost dropped it: it was burning hot. This couldn't be right, could it? She looked at Healer Petite who sat in the chair opposite of her.

His eyes never waived from Harry's face, however, he looked calm and composed. He used his wand and cast a string of silent spells with complicated wand movements over Harry's still form. An array of runes appeared in the air.

She tried to decipher the runes before they simmered out and were replaced by new ones. It was a lost cause: the complicated array was way beyond her skills. So much for being among the top three of her class at Ancient Runes, and the apprenticeship she had done with Madam Pomfrey.

Healer Petite read the array without any problems. As the last runes blinked from existence he leaned back in his chair with a satisfied nod and continued observing Harry.

She allowed a breath that she didn't know she was holding to escape; everything seemed to be going as well as it could be expected. The tension in her muscles lessened.

Silence descended onto the hospital room, only disturbed by an occasional grunt of pain from Harry. His eyes were still closed, but she could see their shuddering movement under his lids.

After an hour, the grunts became more frequent, and his breathing became laboured once again. His hand, still burning hot with fever, twitched between hers.

'Shh, Harry; everything's going to be alright,' she told him and brought his fevered hand to her lips.

What an idiotic thing to say: it still remained to be seen if the potions would work as hoped and give him back a healthy body.

Healer Petite gave her an encouraging smile, and performed another round of examination spells on Harry. Everything seemed to be progressing as it should, if the satisfied gleam in his eyes was anything to go by.

The hours crept on with agonising slowness and pain in Harry's case. Day progressed into night, and Harry's condition seemed to deteriorate by the minute. He appeared to be on fire, being burnt alive in his own skin, and the groans of pain had given way to a constant soft wail, the wail of a very small child. It tore at her heart. She held his sweaty hand between hers and comforted him as best as she could. Did he hear her? It was impossible to tell.

Not long after dusk the convulsions began. Without any forewarning, Harry arched his back in an impossible looking bow and screamed.

Daphne let go of his hand and jumped to her feet. 'Harry!'

'Don't worry, _Madame_ Evans. The potions are working just as they should. The convulsions will last for three or four hours, followed by a phase of heavy hallucinations. After that, _Monsieur_ Evans will break out into an even heavier sweat and fall into a natural sleep of healing until tomorrow morning,' Healer Petite said. His voice seemed to come from far away.

Daphne looked down on Harry's body as it twitched and flexed on the bed. How small he looked! Fragile and somewhat broken. Tears pricked behind her eyes and streamed down her cheeks the next second. She didn't bother to wipe them away.

She resumed her post beside his bed. His hand shot out and grabbed hers and held it in a death grip. The next convulsion hit him, and his iron grip almost broke her fingers. Afterwards, she leaned forward and brushed the fringe from his damp forehead. He relaxed under her touch.

Convulsion followed after convulsion. How was his frail body supposed to make it through this? Daphne lowered her head and closed her eyes. Was there a way out; she couldn't bear to watch him suffer anymore. She bit her lips until she tasted blood. Of course she would stay. A Greengrass never ran away from a responsibility she had accepted.

The time between the convulsions spread out longer, and their intensity lessened.

Healer Petite looked at his watch. 'This should have been the last one.'

Daphne stood up and loosened her cramped muscles. Her hand hurt and was slightly swollen. She looked at Harry's frail body in the bed. Who would have thought he still was that strong?

'Show me your hand, _Madame_ Evans.'

Daphne startled. She hadn't noticed that Healer Petite also got up and now stood beside her. She held out her hand to him. He cast a silent healing charm on it. The pain subsided, and she let out a relieved sigh.

He gave her a small smile. 'That should last you through the next couple of hours. The hallucinations are going to begin any second.'

The words had barely left his mouth, when a heartbreaking wail from Harry's bed made them both whirl around.

'No, Uncle Vernon… please… not the belt! I promise to be a good boy!'

' _Pour l'amour de Dieu!'_ Healer Petit exclaimed as they both rushed to Harry's side. 'Wasn't it enough that he was almost starved to death as a child?'

An answer was impossible: her chest constricted, and she had difficulties to breathe. She picked up Harry's hand, pressed it between the palms of her hands and raised it to her lips. 'Shh, Harry; it's over and you're safe. He can't harm you anymore.'

Harry relaxed at her words. However, the reprieve was a short one. Not even five minutes later, he was hallucinating again.

Healer Petite cast strong Privacy Wards on the room. 'The patients will relive the worst moments of their lives under the influence of these potions. All their secrets come out into the open. While I'm bound by my oath of confidentiality as a healer, you never know who's passing that door in the hallway,' he said.

He hadn't exaggerated. During the next three hours, she became privy not only to the abuse she had already suspected, but also to the truth behind the rumours that had flown through the hallways of Hogwarts about Harry. The rumours paled in comparison to the truth. She held his hand against her cheek and comforted him in a soft, steady voice, while the tears streamed down her face.

His strength was unbelievable. How had a small boy of eleven found it in himself to stand up against the darkest wizard of their time? What had possessed him to go down into the Chamber of Secrets and fight a Basilisk? And where, by Morgana, had the adults been who were supposed to take care of him and make sure he wouldn't come to harm? On the contrary, it seemed as if Dumbledore took a perverted pleasure in putting him in harm's way over and over again.

It was past midnight when Harry finally calmed down. He let out a deep sigh, then sweat began to pour out of his body and soaked his pyjama and the bed linens. Within the next second, he was in a deep slumber. A small smile played around his lips and made him look so very young and vulnerable.

Healer Petite cast a diagnostic spell on Harry. His face lit up as he read the array of runes above Harry's body. ' _Excellent,_ the potions worked even better than I dared to hope,' he said.

At those words all tension left her body, and she sagged back into her chair in an ungraceful heap. She pressed the balls of her hands against her eyes. It was of no use: the tears poured down her cheeks once again. This time they were happy tears.

A hand touched her elbow, and she looked up.

Healer Petite smiled down at her. 'Go, get some sleep, _Madame_ Evans. This has been a hard day.' He pointed towards a camp bed he had conjured in front of the wardrobe.

'No kidding,' she agreed, and got to her feet. Her knees were pure jelly, and Healer Petite had to steady her until she could stand on her own. She cast a last look on Harry: he was sleeping as peaceful as a small child.

She slipped out of her ballet flats and laid back on the camp bed, not bothering about her clothes. The next moment she was out like a light.

 _t.b.c._

* The _Hotel Dieu_ was founded in 651, and is considered to be the first hospital in the city of Paris and the oldest worldwide still operating. Because of its long history I think it's very likely that it houses a magical part.


	29. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Thank you to Shygui for editing this chapter. You rock!

Chapter **24** to **26** , 05/03/18

 **26**

Even though he had fled from his home country twenty-three years ago, Father had insisted to subscribe to _The Daily Prophet_. He needed to keep up with the goings on back home, he had argued.

After Father's death, Mother had kept the subscription. Who would've thought that she was capable of nostalgic feelings?

However, he didn't mind. That way he was able to keep track of his future victims. Potter made the newspaper at least every other day. It was inexcusable how many girls that bloke had in one week and ditched them soon after. Father's family was not as prominent, but they appeared in the newspaper often enough for him to get a feel of their life.

This morning, his eyes wandered over the page with the family announcements. The announcement was small and hidden between two advertisements, but the names caught his eye.

 _Cyrus and Isabella Greengrass would like to announce the marriage of their daughter Daphne Isabella Greengrass to Harry James Potter, son of late Lily and James Potter. The couple was married on July 11th, 1998 in a quiet ceremony at the gardens of_ The Rectory _, the Greengrasses' ancestral home. The wedding was officiated by Officiator Bilius Ditcot and followed by a reception at_ The Rectory _. Daphne and Harry left for a prolonged honeymoon in Paris, France, immediately after the reception._

He thrust the newspaper to the ground, sprang up, and walked to the window in a few, long strides. His teeth bared in an ugly snarl, he looked out onto the quiet, tree-lined street. He had no eye for the beauty of the ancient houses in the neighbourhood while his mind processed the implications of the announcement.

Eventually, the tension left his body. A broad smile crept over his face. Paris was supposed to be beautiful this time of the year, and he was in need of a holiday, anyway.

He ought to pay his respects to the newlyweds, _n'est-ce pas?_

 _t.b.c._


	30. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** I can't stress often enough what a wonderful job Shygui does with editing this story. Thank you!

Chapter **27** to **29** , 08/04/18

 **27**

' _tschilp - tschilp - tschilp!'_

The sparrows in front of the window were awake far too early and already way too energetic for this unholy hour of the day.

'Shut up,' Daphne said, and pulled up the blanket over her ears.

' _tschilp - tschilp - tschilp.'_

Damned birds! She yawned and stretched. The faint noise of many cars mingled with the chirping of the obnoxious birds. Cars? There was hardly ever a car on the country road that passed _The Rectory._ The mattress below her also was unfamiliar: hard and uncomfortable. This wasn't her bed at home. Where was she?

She opened her eyes. That wasn't a good idea: her eyelids were as gritty as sandpaper. She rubbed them with the balls of her hands to get rid of the uncomfortable feeling, yawned again, and took another look. The room was bathed in a grey light, and completely unfamiliar. Her gaze fell onto a bed next to hers. It's raven-haired occupant was still sound asleep. He looked peaceful and relaxed; a small smile played around his lips.

Yesterday's events came back to her like an avalanche: the wedding, her encounter with the Weaselette, and the gruelling hours she had spent sitting next to Harry's bed while he endured the first round of his treatment.

A small snort escaped her lips. How would the Weaselette have dealt with _that_ on her wedding night? She cast another look at her sleeping husband, and her heart melted into a puddle. She'd never seen him looking that unguarded and vulnerable when he was awake. That was a sight that would be hers, and hers alone from now on, well … at least she hoped so. Harry would no doubt want to continue his relationship with the Weaselette. However, would he have the decency to keep appearances and return to the marital bed each night? That still remained to be seen.

She struggled into a sitting position. Her muscles protested the movement, and a small groan escaped her lips. That was the price she had to pay for the tension she had been in all day long yesterday. She sighed; today wasn't going to be any easier. At least she now knew what to expect.

Daphne looked down at herself and made a face. Yuck, she still wore the clothes she had worn the previous day, and her body was sticky with dried sweat. If there ever was the time for a shower, it was now. She looked around in the room. Ah, there was another door next to the wardrobe. Thank Merlin, Harry's private hospital room came with an ensuite bathroom.

She dragged her protesting body out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom. The hot water loosened her cramped muscles. Ah, the luxury of a long, hot shower! She stayed longer under the spray as she'd intended. Still reluctant, she turned off the water and grabbed for a towel. She took her shrunken trunk out of the pocket of her dress and changed into fresh clothes. When she stepped back into the hospital room, a growl from her stomach reminded her that she'd hardly eaten anything at the wedding lunch, and forgot completely about dinner during Harry's treatment.

She stopped right in her tracks. Harry blinked at her from his bed, his brows knitted into a slight scowl.

'G...Good morning, Harry. I'm sorry I woke you. You need your rest.'

If anything, the scowl on his face became even deeper. He motioned with his hand toward the camp bed. 'Have you stayed here all night long?'

Daphne nodded. 'It was already past midnight when you finally fell asleep. I was completely knackered, so Healer Petite conjured a camp bed for me.' Her voice faltered. Was he angry at her?

The scowl on his face ceased. 'Oh -. That's alright, then,' He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. 'I need to go to the bathroom.' He took a sniff at his pyjamas and grimaced. 'And I need a shower.' He stood up, made a step forward, and swayed.

Daphne rushed to his side and caught him before he crashed to the ground. 'Umph!' Her knees buckled under his weight. He might look like a walking skeleton, but he still seemed to weigh a ton.

Harry grabbed with his hand behind him and lowered himself back onto the bed, assisted by Daphne. He looked up to her, a lopsided grin on his face. 'Thank you for keeping me from face planting, Daphne, the floor looks uncomfortably hard.'

A swarm of butterflies settled down in her belly. That devastating grin ought to come with a license to carry a deadly weapon. She lowered her eyes. None of Miss Ogden's lectures how to behave like a lady had prepared her how to deal with the charming smile of a young man who was too handsome for his own good, even when he looked like death warmed up.

The memory of her stern governess was like a bucket of ice cold water dumped on her. At least it helped to get her breathing under control. 'I'm afraid you'll have to be content with Nursing Spells for the time being,' Daphne said, and slipped her wand out of the holster on her forearm.

His wand was in his hand within the blink of an eye, and an almost opaque shield appeared between them. Where did he take that magical strength from, as weakened as he was? 'What do you think you're doing, woman?' He snarled like an angry dog.

She startled. Great, they were not yet married for twenty-four hours, and he was already snapping at her. That had to be a new record.

'I was about to cast a few Nursing Charms on you to make you feel better, since you're not yet strong enough to go to the bathroom.'

The angry expression on his face gave place to a sheepish one. 'Oh -. Who taught you that?'

'Madam Pomfrey showed me the charms so I could take care of Astoria in the dorms when she had one of her episodes. She hates to be in the infirmary.' Her eyes were lowered to the floor. She should have known better than to brandish her wand without a word of forewarning in front of Harry.

He chuckled. 'I can't blame her for that.'

Daphne's eyes got wide and her head snapped up. The lopsided grin was back, thank Merlin.

He pointed at her wand. 'Go ahead!'

She performed a Nursing Spell on his bladder and was rewarded with an instant look of blissful relief on his face.

Their eyes met, and he turned red.

'That's alright, Harry. Where's your trunk? I imagine you also want to change your pyjamas.'

'Yes - what?!'

She giggled. 'There's an advanced Switching Spell for that. Don't worry, I won't offend your modesty.'

He blushed once again and nodded with his head towards the wardrobe. 'I've shrunken it and put it in the wardrobe.'

'Alright.' She walked to the wardrobe to get the trunk, and enlarged it with a flick of her wand. A huge mess greeted her when she flipped the lid open. His clothes seemed to have been stuffed into the trunk at random, and a pair of the most battered trainers she'd ever seen had been dropped on top of them. Merlin help her, her new husband was a slob.

She looked at him over her shoulder. 'Did nobody ever teach you the Packing Charm?'

Again, he blushed. 'Eh…'

She sighed. 'I'll take that as a no. Oh well, I guess that's my job anyway from now on.' She flicked her wand, and his clothes rose into the air and deposited themselves on the empty chair beside his bed. With a series of small silent flicks of her wand each piece floated into the air, folded itself and then sunk back into the trunk, until all of Harry's clothes were back in the trunk in orderly stacks.

'Wow, how did you do this?'

'My governess taught me before I entered Hogwarts. I think she made me practise it about a million times on my doll's clothes. Well, at least it felt that way.'

'Time well spent. I don't think my trunk has ever been this neat.'

She blushed at his praise. So far, they got along better than she had dared to hope.

A few silent Nursing Spells later, Harry sat in his bed, clad in fresh pyjamas.

A knock on the door announced a nurse coming in with the breakfast: a bowl of porridge for Harry, and a _café au lait_ and a _croissant_ for Daphne.

Harry looked into his bowl and sighed. 'The food in this place leaves a lot to be desired. You'd think with the amount of Galleons I have to pay for my stay here they'd feed me something good.'

Daphne laughed and picked up the _croissant_. 'Well, Healer Petite mentioned yesterday that the potions you have to take aren't easy on your stomach. Probably your stomach can't handle anything more substantial than porridge on top of that.' She took a hearty bite.

He made a face and opened his mouth, no doubt to object, but was interrupted by the opening of the door.

Healer Petite came into the room, followed by a nurse who carried a tray filled with more than a dozen vials of potion.

'Good morning, _Monsieur_ Evans. How are you feeling?'

'Good morning, Healer Petite,' Harry replied with a straight face. 'I'm fine.'

Daphne harrumphed at that.

Healer Petite regarded him with a small smile. 'I know for a fact that you can't be "fine" today, _Monsieur_ Evans. The truth, please, and not a polite statement.'

'To be honest, I'm pretty sore,' Harry said.

Healer Petite nodded to that. 'That sounds more realistic. That was to be expected, _Monsieur_ Evans. Let me assure you, the examination I did after the first round of potions came up with a better result than I had hoped.'

A reluctant smile appeared on Harry's face. 'Really?'

'I wouldn't lie to you about something as important as this,' Healer Petite said. He settled down on the empty chair beside Harry's bed and waited until he had finished his breakfast. As soon as the nurse had taken away the tray and left the room, he picked up the first vial of potions and held it out to Harry. 'Shall we?'

Harry nodded, took a deep breath, and downed the first potion. From then on, everything played out like the day before: Harry was in increasing pain until lunchtime, convulsed all afternoon long and finally started to hallucinate in the early evening.

Daphne never left her place by his side, held his hand, carded her fingers through his hair and comforted him as best she could, until the sweat broke out and he fell into another deep natural sleep.

She covered her face with the palms of her hands. Today had been the second day of his treatment, and there were five more days to come. How was Harry going to survive that gruelling treatment? How was she supposed to keep her sanity?

 _t.b.c._


	31. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Another big thank you to Shygui for editing this chapter. Uou rock!

Chapters **27** to **29** , 08/04/18

 **28**

Where was Potter?

He hit with his flat palm against the pane of the tiny window. Below him was the _Chemin Glauque, Lutétia's_ counterpart to Knockturn Alley. He'd taken a room in a shabby inn here, rather than at the fashionable _Le Marrakech_ on _Champs Magique._ He didn't want to draw attention to himself, and the staff there probably would've recognised him.

He turned around, crossed the room with two long strides, and threw himself onto the bed. The bed springs creaked in protest, and the mattress was lumpy and thin under his back. Merlin, he wanted to get out of here!

However, first he had to find Potter and his whore.

They didn't stay at the _Le Marrakech._ It had been the first place he'd checked, and he'd come up empty. His discreet investigations at the top ten Muggle hotels in Paris also had led him to a dead end. Unthinkable they'd consider anything else for their honeymoon: they both had more gold than was good for them; they had to stay somewhere else.

Where could they be? Where would he go if he was the Chosen One? What would a newly wed couple in Paris do, if gold was no object?

He let out a snort. They were teenagers and newlyweds; they'd be shagging like rabbits, of course. Being Britain's new celebrity couple, they'd most likely looked for a private place.

Damn! He hit the mattress with his flat palm. A small cloud of dust rose up, and he sneezed. They'd rented a private house, that was the only explanation why he hadn't found them yet. However, not in _Lutétia_. Word would've spread like wildfire among the magical population if the Chosen One and his bride stayed somewhere in the confines of the magical district.

Somewhere in Muggle Paris, then. Not a Muggle house, either; they were both used to the comfort magic and house elves could provide.

He let out a sigh. Searching for a magical house in the Muggle part of Paris was like searching for a needle in the haystack.

Servants ... surely they had servants waiting on them hand and foot, and if those servants were house elves, there might be a way to find them. The dumb creatures all were connected somehow; there was a theory they existed on symbiotic bonds among each other and the wizarding families they were bound to. Another proof of the inferiority of that species to wizardkind. However, that was beside the point. More important was the first potential lead he might have to Potter's whereabouts.

'Seedy!'

 _CRACK!_

A house elf apparated into his room and bowed, it's nose almost reaching the ground. 'What can Seedy do for Master?' The elf didn't look up to him; his gaze was directed somewhere at his knees.

He smiled. At least his house elf still knew where his place was. 'Find Harry Potter and his whore. They are staying somewhere in Paris. I order you to use your connection to the house elf population to find them. You have one hour to find them, or I'll break your fingers in the door of the oven tonight.'

The elf let out a small squeak at this.

'Stop squeaking. You've got your orders. Go, or I'll start breaking your fingers right now.'

'Y...yes, Master!'

 _CRACK!_

The house elf was gone. A smile played around his lips. House elves indeed were useful creatures - once in a while. He folded his arms behind his head, made himself comfortable on the lumpy mattress and closed his eyes.

 _CRACK!_

He shot bolt upright and grabbed for his wand. A Bone Breaker Curse sizzled towards the elf in front of him and hit him on the arm. There was a sickening crack, and the arm hung limp to the house elf's side.

'Ouwouwouw!' An infernal wail assaulted his ears.

He stood up from the bed and gave the elf a kick to the shin. 'Stop wailing!'

The offending noise stopped.

The waning light that emitted through the small, dull window indicated that dusk had fallen, leaving the shabby room dark and foreboding. He must've fallen asleep after his house elf left to search for the Potters.

'Lumos.'

An oil lamp on the bedside table lit up. It didn't succeed in illuminating the room. He turned back to the elf. 'Have you found them?'

Seedy proffered the same low bow as before, supporting his broken arm with his good one.

He chuckled. It really was a funny sight to behold.

'Seedy has found them, Master. The great Harry Potter stays at the _Hotel Dieu Magique_ the elves of the hospital told Seedy _._ Seedy couldn't get in there; the wards are too strong. The beautiful wife of the great Harry Potter is with him. The great Harry Potter will be released from the hospital the day after tomorrow, very early in the morning.'

He started. Why in the world was Potter in the hospital? He shook his head, that wasn't important. He now knew where Potter would be in two days.

'You may go, Seedy.'

The house elf bowed again and disappeared.

He went to the door and took his cloak from the hook. He had preparations to make. A big grin spread over his face.

In two days, Potter and his whore were going to die.

 _t.b.c._


	32. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Thank you to Shygui, the best editor ever.

Chapters **27** to **29** , 08/04/18

 **29**

Harry left the worst moments of his life until the last day.

'Take this, _Madame_ Evans,' Healer Petite said and pressed a vial in Daphne's hand. 'It's a simple Stomach Soothing Potion.' With a flick of his wand he Vanished the puddle of sick from the spot where she had emptied her stomach.

Daphne gave him a weak nod of thanks. Her eyes never left Harry's face. Merlin damn Albus Dumbledore! Did he really believe there was no other way to get rid of the Horcrux inside of Harry than manipulating Harry into letting himself get killed by the monster? There always was more than one way to reach your goal, Father had taught her. Dumbledore should have known that this would also apply to something as unspecified as the prophecy.

Instead, it seemed as if he had deliberately condemned Harry to a life full of misery and abuse at the hands of his relatives, followed by more abuse and ridicule by the magical world. Dumbledore was not one iota better than Voldemort: he had manipulated an innocent child into believing his life wasn't worth much. That belief had manifested itself in the young man, who had walked to his own death like a sacrificial lamb.

She wiped away the tears that ran down her cheeks and downed the potion.

She would make sure that Harry got the chance to live a happy life from now on, and if it was the last thing she did!

' _Madame_ Evans.' Healer Petite's voice startled her out of his thoughts. She looked up.

The healer regarded her with a thoughtful look. 'This young man - his name isn't Evans, _n'est-ce pas?_ This is Harry Potter … _Non_?'

There was no use in denying. Healer Petite had heard too much during the last days not to draw the right conclusions. Besides that, she had always used the name Harry, instead of James, when she talked to him, and of course the famous scar, though it had fainted since the Battle, was still visible on his forehead and a dead giveaway.

She nodded. 'Yeah, he is.' She narrowed her eyes at the older man. 'Since you've found out his secret, I don't trust you that you'll keep to yourself what you've learned during the last couple of days, Healer Petite, your oath of confidentiality notwithstanding. I demand a magical oath from you that you won't reveal anything of what you've learned in this room during the last days.'

Harry would be angry at her, no doubt. He didn't think much of magical oaths. Oh well, he would never find out, and someone had to look out for him. Merlin knew he was as apt at looking out for himself as a newborn baby.

' _Oui, bien sûr, Madame_ Potter,' Healer Petite said, and she breathed a silent sigh. 'Will Nurse Leclerq do as a binder?'

'Yes, that will suffice,' she replied.

Harry let out a deep sigh. Daphne jerked her head around to the bed. Thick beads of sweat pooled on his forehead and ran down his temples. He was fast asleep. Thank Merlin, the torture was over. She walked toward the bed, conjured a wet cloth and wiped his face.

Healer Petite followed her and performed a set of diagnostic spells over Harry. His face beamed when he straightened up. 'The potions worked perfectly. _Monsieur_ Potter will be as good as new when he wakes up tomorrow morning.'

Daphne whooped and pumped her fist in the air. She rushed around the bed and grabbed Healer Petite in a tight hug. 'Thank you, thank you, thank you!'

He laughed and patted her back. 'You're welcome, _Madame_ Potter.'

Rather red in the face, she pulled away.

'Now, let's see to that magical oath you asked for…' Healer Petite said.

* * *

For a last time she woke up to the chirping of the obnoxious sparrows. She yawned, stretched, and turned around to look at Harry. Watching him in his sleep before he woke up had become an obsession and a guilty pleasure for her.

Today, however, a pair of fascinating emerald green eyes looked back at her. Heat shot into her cheeks. 'G...good morning.'

'Good morning.' He frowned and pointed with his hand towards the camp bed she lay on. 'Did you sleep on that uncomfortable thing all week long?'

She held her breath and nodded. How would he take that revelation?

The frown on his face deepened. 'Why didn't you stay in a hotel room at night?'

She sat up and put her feet on the floor. 'Well, we're supposed to be on our honeymoon. It would look weird if I turned up at the _Le Marrakech_ all alone for seven nights in a row, wouldn't it?'

He mirrored her movements. 'The _Le Marrakech?'_

'Posh hotel in the magical quarter of Paris,' she said, and slipped into her ballet flats.

'Oh, I see. Couldn't you've rented a room in a Muggle hotel?'

That would've meant to let him out of her sight while he fought for his life. As if she'd ever do that. Again, heat rushed into her cheeks, and she bent down and pretended to adjust her shoes. Her face still was warm when she straightened, but that could be blamed to the blood rushing into her head when she'd bent down. 'Though we don't shout it from the rooftops, the connections of my family to the Muggle world aren't a secret, either. You can bet that _The Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly,_ and the other big European newspapers have their reporters hunting for us in Muggle Paris as we speak. I suppose you can also imagine the headlines, had they caught me without you.'

'Right, yeah; should've thought of that.' He averted his face and cleared his throat. 'I guess we ought to get used to sleeping in the same room, anyway.'

The heat returned into her cheeks in a giant wave. Damn him, she just got a grip on herself. She bent her head and hid her glowing face behind her long hair. 'Yeah, guess so.' Her voice sounded weak, even in her own ears. From tonight on, they'd not only share a room, but also a bed. Her heart thumped a drumroll in her chest.

She jumped to her feet and almost fled to the bathroom, mindful not to look at him. 'I'd better get ready. Healer Petite said he'll give you your final exam early in the morning.'

The morning routine helped to regain her composure. She took a deep breath. They'd get used to it; after all, they didn't know each other, even though she'd become privy to most of his secrets over the past seven days, and had found out he was a difficult patient. Yes, he was endearing when he complained about the porridge he got each morning, but that hadn't kept her from threatening him with Silencing Charms if he didn't shut up. At the thought of their easy banter about the hospital food a grin spread over her face. Somehow, they'd also get through everything else their awkward situation would throw at them.

Harry still sat on the edge of the bed when she entered the room. He had his arms crossed in front of his chest, and his head bowed, and seemed to contemplate his bare feet that stuck out from pyjama bottoms that ended at his calves.

Daphne blinked. Hadn't these pants been much longer when she helped him to the loo yesterday morning?

At her entrance, he looked up. Why didn't he wear his glasses?

'Do you think I can take a shower this morning instead of the Nursing Spells?'

'Yes, why not?' she said. 'Healer Petite said the treatment worked just fine and that you're as good as new. However, you've been bedridden for a week, and Merlin knows how your circulatory will react when you try to stand for some time. I'd feel better if you don't lock the bathroom door behind you.'

He gave her a lopsided grin and pushed himself off the bed. 'Can't wait to peek on your new husband, can you?'

Gone was her composure. Once again, her face, neck and ears became incredible hot. 'That's … that's not what I meant.'

He paused in front of her on his way to the bathroom and touched her arm. 'Sorry, Daph, but I couldn't resist. What do you expect when you hand it to me on a plate?'

She gasped. He _had_ grown overnight. One week ago, the top of her head had reached his nose. Now, it barely reached his chin. Electric sparks shot through her arm where he touched her, and a swarm of butterflies took residence in her stomach. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Oh, that was just great: reduced to a jittering mass of goo by just one casual touch.

He'd already turned his back on her and vanished into the bathroom. With a little luck, he hadn't noticed her reaction.

Not even fifteen minutes later he returned, showered, shaved and dressed. How was he doing that? She always needed at least half an hour.

His return was on time with the nurse who brought the breakfast. Harry's eyes lit up at the sight of the tray with _café au lait_ and a _croissant._ He polished his plate within minutes. 'Not bad, but a full English breakfast is better.'

Healer Petite came right after breakfast. 'Please, remove your shirt, Mr Potter,' he said, and pulled his wand out of his pocket for the examination.

Harry shot Daphne an uneasy glance, but obeyed and pulled his shirt over his head.

Daphne's breath caught in her throat. Healer Petite hadn't exaggerated: Harry was even better than new. Not only had he grown at least four inches, he'd also filled out rather appetising. For the first time since she knew him he seemed to have a normal weight, and now sported broad shoulders, narrow hips and a nicely toned body. Merlin, how was she supposed to keep her hands to herself?

She cast a surreptitious glance at Harry. Did he notice her admiration of his new body? Thank Morgana, no; Healer Petite kept him distracted with a lot of questions.

Healer Petite put his wand back into his pocket. 'By the way, _Monsieur_ Potter; I already told your wife, but I want to tell you as well: you don't have to be afraid that I'll reveal anything of what you said when you were hallucinating. My healer's oath prevents me from that, and your wife made me take an additional magical oath.'

Harry became rigid. His head jerked around, and he frowned at Daphne.

Drat; that was not the way she'd planned to tell him what had happened while he hallucinated, and why she'd demanded a magical oath from Healer Petite.

Healer Petite held out his hand to Harry. 'I wish you all the best, _Monsieur_ Potter. I hope you and _Madame_ Potter will enjoy the remainder of your stay in our city. Please, don't forget to schedule regular check-ups with me. I'd like to see you at least twice a year.'

The two men shook hands, and Healer Petite kissed Daphne's knuckles in goodbye. As soon as the door had closed behind him, Harry turned to Daphne. 'Now, my dear wife, when were you planning to tell me about that interesting little piece of information Healer Petite just gave me?'

Her eyes met his glare fair and square. 'As soon as we are somewhere more private, Harry.'

His glare didn't lessen. 'What did I reveal while I was hallucinating?'

She bit her lips. 'Pretty much all the bad things that happened to you in your life. Healer Petite said he prepared one batch of the potion to deal with the mental trauma you've suffered. In order to cope with it, you had to relive everything you went through.' A violent shudder shook her body. 'I've no idea how you survived.'

He huffed, slipped into his shirt and grabbed her by the upper arm. 'We are going to have a long talk, as soon as we're in our hotel room, dearest wife,' he said, and led her to the door.

Daphne cast a side glance at him. His jaw was set in a taut line, and his brows were knitted in a deep frown over his angry eyes. No doubt, he was livid. What a great way to start their honeymoon.

She let out a sigh. 'Of course, Harry.'

They walked out of the hospital and onto the place in front of the cathedral. Harry was still seething. What a sweet tempered husband she had. Was he always like this when he was rubbed the wrong way? He'd better not. Compared to Father's icy displeasure whenever she didn't meet his expectations, Harry's outbursts were rather childish and not at all impressive.

'Whereto?' he asked. They had left the hospital and stood under the mature trees that adorned the front of the hospital.

She gestured with her hand across the Seine towards the opposite side of the river. 'Our hotel is near the Petite Pond, just across the river.'

'Alright, what are we waiting for?' His voice still sounded angry.

Daphne jutted her chin. If he thought he could take out his bad mood on her, he'd better think twice. She was a Greengrass and the heir of her house; no matter how much she loved him, she wasn't going to let him walk all over her. Their talk was promising to become temperamental.

Harry led her to the zebra crossing in front of the hospital. As soon as she put her foot on the pavement of the street, she heard it: the roaring engine of a motorbike. It sounded close - too close. Her head whipped around. A black motorbike sped towards her. The driver wore black biker gear, even his helmet was black, except for the visor. It mirrored the surroundings, and made it impossible to see the driver's face. He held something out into their direction. Daphne's subconscious registered all that within a split second, while the motorbike seemed to creep towards her as if a Time Manipulating Spell had slowed everything down.

She screamed.

 _CRACK!_

Her body was squeezed as if pressed through a hose. The next moment she found herself on the walkway on the other side of the street. She whirled around. The motorbike just roared through the space where she and Harry had been not even a split second before. The roaring of the engine quickly diverged, now intermingled with the siren of a police car.

'What an idiot!' she said, her voice shaky.

Harry still looked into the direction where the motorbike had vanished. 'Yeah.' He turned his head towards her. 'You alright?'

She let out a shuddering breath. 'Yeah, thanks to you. You saved my life when you Apparated us away. You -'

A police officer on a motorbike stopped right in front of them and interrupted her. He got off his motorbike and walked towards them. ' _Madame, monsieur,_ have you been hurt? I'm afraid I need your statement about this incident.'

 _t.b.c._


	33. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer:** Everyhing belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Another big thank you to Shygui for editing this chapter.

Chapter **30** and **31** , 12/04/18

 **30**

It was almost lunch time when he entered the _Chat Noir._ He slammed the door shut behind him and stormed through the tobacco-smoke clouded taproom towards the crooked staircase, unmindful of the curious stares from the patrons in the shabby inn that followed him.

Merlin damn Potter! The bastard had Apparated himself and his whore away when he realised that they'd be bowled over by the motorbike.

And Merlin double damn those French cops. They'd been on his heels mere seconds after the incident and hunted him through the city. Thanks to magic he'd given them a nice, long chase. However, it had been the devil's own task to get out of their sight long enough to shrink the motorbike and Apparate away. They had cost him the better part of the morning. Now he was hungry and thirsty and soaked in sweat under this ridiculous Muggle motorbike outfit.

He stomped up the creaking stairs, towards his room, and yanked the door open.

'Seedy!' he called the moment he entered the room, and threw his motorcycle helmet onto the still unmade bed.

The sound of the Apparition of his house elf was in sync with the door banging shut.

'Master has called Seedy? How can Seedy serve Master?' Seedy bowed; his injured arm still hung limp at his side.

How ridiculous! If he wasn't in such a bad mood, he'd actually find the ugly vermin amusing. He kicked the elf in the stomach. 'Don't talk so much, you useless little shit.'

Seedy doubled over, clutching his stomach with his good arm. However, he didn't utter a single noise.

'Bring me a butterbeer, and lunch. Immediately,' he said.

He turned towards the decrepit wardrobe, made a face at his reflection in the stained mirror, and pulled down the zipper of his motorbike jacket. He couldn't wait to get back into robes. Muggle clothes were so undignified.

'Where have you been?' a female voice behind him said.

Every muscle in his body tensed. How had she found him? He whirled around, his mouth agape.

The air in front of the opposite wall shimmered for a brief second as she moved and cancelled the Desillusion Charm on herself. Now she looked as always: smaller than him, every piece of her mouse coloured hair in place and tucked away in a stern bun at the nape of her neck, and clad from head to toe in black. The expression on her face also was as always: cold and aloof; the only indication of her mood was in her eyes, which glowered at him, hot and piercing, as if reading each of his thoughts.

Damn, she did; she was a master Legilimens, and he'd never managed to master the art which would protect his mind from her. He closed his eyes, though it was probably too late. What had she seen?

She stepped closer. 'So, you tried to kill Potter and the girl. Well, I appreciate your strength of purpose. Too many followers of our valiant Cause content with mourning the death of the Dark Lord and curse Potter, without ever contemplating action against that parvenu.'

He relaxed his taut muscles and allowed himself a small smile. Praise from her was a rare thing.

She took another step towards him, raised her hand and slapped him into the face. Hard. His head flew back from the impact.

He covered his burning cheek with the palm of his hand. 'What was that for, Mother?'

What a silly question; as if she'd ever needed a reason to punish him.

'Shut up!' Her eyes burned into his, extinguishing any thought other than the fear of her displeasure.

'You are an idiot, son. Did you really think you could best Potter? He is way out of your league, as your clumsy and much too complicated plan to kill him and his whore showed. He escaped with a simple Apparition, and left you no other choice than to flee and to be hunted by the Muggle police like a rabbit. For shame!'

Each of her words pierced, invisible needles of steel. She turned around and walked to the door. 'I'm ashamed to say you are not half the man your father was. Get changed and pack your things. You will meet me in the lobby of the _Le Marrakech_ in exactly thirty minutes. I've booked a Portkey for this afternoon that will take us home.'

She walked out of the room.

'Yes, mother,' he said to the door that closed behind her, and clenched his fists by his side.

 _t.b.c._


	34. Chapter 31

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** As always, a heartfelt thank you to Shygui for editing this chapter, especially for providing what I think the best line.

Chapter **30** and **31** , 12/04/18

 **31**

The air rippled in waves above the sun-scorched pavement when at last Harry and Daphne were allowed to leave the _Préfecture de Police_ around lunch time. Heat enveloped them like a blanket the moment they stepped out of the building. Thank Merlin, the _Préfecture_ was right next to the _Hotel Dieu_ and the cathedral, so they didn't have to walk far to get back to their hotel.

They halted on the small landing in front of the door, and Harry's stomach gave an audible rumble. It was followed only a second later by a rumble not quite as loud from Daphne. They looked at each other. Harry's lips twitched first, and they burst out laughing.

'I guess that takes care of our plans for the next hour,' Harry said.

Daphne only nodded and cast her new husband a glance from under her eyelashes. It seemed the never-ending questioning about the incident with the motorbike this morning had distracted him from his anger at her.

However, they'd have to talk about that at one point, or it would come back and blow up in their faces. Ugh, that wasn't something she looked forward too. From what she'd gathered listening to Harry's hallucinations and what Healer Petite had told her about his mental trauma, Harry was used to bottling up everything inside of him and dealing with his problems alone, until he blew up under the pressure. At least the potion had dealt with that issue: he'd be much more forthcoming from now on, even though it wasn't likely that he'd confide in her. Probably he'd talk with Granger and the Weasel, or - Merlin forbid - the Weaselette.

'Let's find a restaurant,' she said, and began to walk down the steps to the street. 'I don't know about you, but I tend to become grumpy and insufferable when I'm hungry. '

'Heaven forbid that I'll have to deal with a grumpy wife,' Harry said and offered her his arm. 'Let's get you fed. What about that Italian restaurant over there?' He pointed with his finger to a building at the other side of the river.

'Looks good to me,' she said. Did her voice sound breathless? His arm felt so much different than on their wedding day, supple and musculous. Her fingers burned where she touched him, sending delicious tingles all over her body.

Five minutes later a waiter seated them at a table on the terrace of the restaurant from where they had a fantastic view across the river and at the _Cathédrale Notre-Dame_. Daphne sunk into her chair with a small sigh. The shade the huge awning provided was a welcomed relief after their short walk through the midday heat. Even more welcomed were the cool drinks the waiter served them almost immediately. Daphne leaned back in the comfortable wicker chair and looked around. The terrace was well filled; they'd been lucky to catch one of the last free tables outside. Laughter and soft conversations in at least half a dozen European languages reached her ears. The smell of delicious Italian food wafted from the kitchen towards them, and her stomach gave an appreciative little skip.

They both were hungry enough to opt for one of the three course _menus du jour_ the restaurant offered, and had a good laugh when they discovered that they both disliked the raw oysters with lemon for starters and opted for the salad instead.

However, the frown returned on Harry's face while he ate his salad. Was he mad at her again?

He looked up; something in her expression must've told him she was concerned, for he smiled at her and said, 'Don't worry, this isn't about you. There's something about that motorbike incident that troubles me. Something I've seen, but everything was over that fast that I hadn't the time to process what I saw.' He let out a frustrated sigh, stabbed at his salad with his fork, and lowered his voice. 'I wish I had a Pensieve.'

'A Pensieve? What's that?'

His eyebrows quirked up at her question, and he looked around. Nobody was near them. He hid his right hand under the white tablecloth, made an unobtrusive move, and grinned at her. 'Now we can talk without anyone listening in.'

Her hand with the fork in it stopped midway between her plate and her mouth, and her eyes widened. 'Did you just cast a silent Privacy Ward?'

'Yep, something like that. It's a nifty little charm your former head of house invented, and that prevents anyone from understanding what we say.'

She choked on the bite in her mouth, coughed, and took a sip of water to clear her throat. 'You mean _Muffliato?_ How by Merlin's beard did you learn that spell? Snape taught it exclusively to us snakes.'

'Well, obviously the knowledge isn't that exclusive,' he said and smirked. 'To answer your first question: a Pensieve is a magical device that looks like a bowl, but is made out of stone and has runes inscribed on it. You can put your memories into it and watch them like a Muggle film. Very useful if you want to revisit certain memories for details.'

She stopped eating at his explanation and put the fork back on her plate. 'Wow, I had no idea something like that exists. You own one?'

Now it was his turn to look at her with wide eyes. 'I thought they were common knowledge.' He shook his head. 'No, I don't own a Pensieve. It was Dumbledore's, or maybe it belonged to Hogwarts; I wouldn't know.'

Daphne picked up her fork again and speared some lettuce. 'That makes sense; we're told from early childhood on that Hogwarts houses a lot of amazing magic unknown to most of wizardkind.' She put the fork into her mouth, chewed and swallowed, and said, 'I can see that a Pensieve might come in handy with what's bugging you about your memory. We'll have to do without one and figure out by sharing our memories, I guess.'

'Alright, you first or I?' Harry asked.

She gestured with a forkful of salad at his already empty plate. 'Go ahead.'

He chuckled, took a sip of his drink and leaned back in his wicker chair. 'Well, to be honest, I was rather distracted when we walked onto that zebra crossing.'

Daphne didn't comment on that. Was he over his funk already? She didn't know him good enough to be sure.

'I didn't notice the motorbike until the engine roared up, and I looked into the direction from where the sound came. Next thing I know is the bike racing towards us, and that it was going to hit us, so I did the only thing that came to my mind and Apparated us to safety.'

She swallowed the last bite of her salad and put the fork down. 'Thanks Merlin for your quick thinking. We could both be dead now. What else do you remember?'

'I was a black bike, and the driver was clad in black motorcycle gear. Even his helmet was black.'

'Year, but the visor was a kind of mirror,' Daphne said. 'I remember how I freaked out about that. It looked scary.' She closed her eyes and replayed the scene in her memory. Yes, of course, now she remembered. She opened her eyes wide. 'He had a wand in his hand and pointed it at us.'

'Are you sure about that?'

She nodded.

Harry stared at her, his eyes dark, and rather pale in the face. 'A wizard, then.'

She nodded. 'Yeah, or a witch. It's impossible to tell because of the mirrored visor, and the hunched position on the motorbike makes it hard to estimate his or her height.'

'You've got a point there.' He smiled at her. 'You're as logical as Hermione.'

Heat crept into her cheeks. Comparing her to his best friend was probably a high praise in his eyes.

The smile vanished from his face as quick as it had come. 'It's a safe bet to assume that this wasn't just an idiotic motorcyclist, but an attack on me.' He rubbed his face with the palms of his hand. His eyes were troubled when he looked at her again across the table. 'I'm sorry, Daphne. This wouldn't have happened to you, if you weren't married to me.'

The waiter chose that moment to serve the main course and interrupted their talk.

He never would've survived in the house of snakes, so much was sure. A Slytherin never took the blame for something that was out of their control. Of course, this was due to his horrible upbringing by his disgusting relatives who blamed everything on him. She would have to teach him to look out for his own interests.

Daphne played with the stem of her water glass, waited until the waiter had left and gave her husband a hard stare. 'Who says this is about you, Harry? Did you forget the threats Lucius Malfoy made against Mother, Tori and me back in June? Whilst I can't see how he has managed to stage an attack out of Azkaban, the possibility is still there.'

Harry didn't answer at once. Maybe he needed some time to let her words sink in. Silence descended between them.

A riverboat passed the cathedral at a slow pace, and the voice of the guide explaining the sights wafted over to them. She toyed with the food on her plate while she waited for Harry to come to a conclusion.

A slow smile crept in Harry's face, and the tension left his body. 'How could I forget about good, old Lucius? He's been a pain in my arse for longer than I care to admit, so why should he stop being a prick just because he's in Azkaban?' He picked up his cutlery and took a bite of his lasagna. 'I guess we should inform the Aurors. I'll send my Patronus to Kingsley as soon as we're in our hotel room.'

He'd said "we". A warm feeling spread in Daphne's belly. For the remainder of the meal she was on cloud nine.

* * *

Entering the hotel room Father had booked for their honeymoon together with Harry was as embarrassing as she had feared. Father had gone all out, and for a couple in love it would've been a wonderful surprise.

A huge, inviting four poster bed, covered with a deep blue satin quilt and decorated with lots of matching pillows, dominated the room. A trail of rose petals led across the shining floor from the door to the bed, and a silver cooler with champagne and a plate with Honeyduke's finest chocolate waited for them. Daphne cast a glance through the open door of the bathroom. More rose petals, this time swimming in the marble bath tube that was big enough for two, and scented candles on top of that. She didn't dare to meet Harry's eyes. Her burning cheeks without any doubt matched his red face at the moment.

He walked to the cooler and pulled out the bottle of champagne. 'Well, we might as well enjoy it as long as it's still cold. Might even help us to relax for the talk we need to have.' He started to open the bottle.

'Don't!' Her voice sounded sharper than she'd intended.

Her turned around and looked at her, his brows knitted together.

'I won't put it past Father that he's laced the champagne and the chocolate with a certain potion to get things between us going.'

His face went from confused to horrified within the blink of an eye, and he let go of the bottle as if it was scalding hot.

Laughter bubbled up in her and spilled over her lips. 'Oh, by Circe, Harry, your face!' She doubled over and held her side.

The frown on his face was replaced with a reluctant grin, and the next moment he joined her laughter.

They both ended sitting on the floor, their backs against the mahogany footrest of the bed, breathless from laughter. At least their outburst had cleared away the awkward tension between them. Daphne pulled out her wand and Vanished the champagne and the chocolate. 'Better safe than sorry,' she said, and slipped her wand back into the holster on her arm.

Harry scrambled to his feet, walked to the telephone by the bedside, and picked up the receiver.

'What are you doing there, Harry?'

He turned around and grinned at her. 'Ordering a fresh bottle of champagne. As I told you, we'll probably need it.'

She shook her head, laughed, and let him have his way. They would've needed the champagne _and_ a dose of Love Potion, were the old stipulations of Pureblood marriage agreements still in fashion that forced the couple to become intimate within a set timeframe, usually twenty-four hours after the bonding ceremony. At least Father had spared them that.

While they waited for the room service, Harry cast his stag Patronus and gave him a message for Minister Shacklebolt.

Daphne watched the beautiful animal. 'Are you sure your charm is strong enough to get to Minister Shacklebolt?'

'Positive,' Harry said and slipped away his wand. 'I sent him a Patronus from Hogwarts to London a few days after the Battle.'

She stared at him. Had he any idea how strong his magic was? She'd always prided herself on her magical strength. Compared to him, she was mediocre, at best. A knock on the door announced the room service and prevented her from staring at him like a fangirl any longer.

Harry opened the bottle, poured two glasses and handed one to her. He raised his glass to her. 'Daphne, I have no idea what kind of husband I'll be. I don't want to pretend to be something I'm not; you know why I married you, and it wasn't out of love. I have no idea why you agreed to your father's plan, however, I thank you for that from the bottom of my heart. I promise to you that no matter what I'll try to be a good husband.' He clinked his glass with hers.

How was she supposed to answer to that? She took a sip of the cool, bubbly drink. 'Thank you, Harry, I appreciate your honesty. I'll try to be a good wife to you.'

He jerked his head towards the tiny balcony in front of their room. 'Why don't we sit down outside, admire the view and have a talk about this morning and where we go from here?'

She nodded to his suggestion and followed him outside. The balcony was just big enough for two white iron chairs and a matching small, round table between them. However, it boasted an amazing view across the Seine towards the _Cathédrale Notre-Dame._

Harry put his glass and the bottle of champagne onto the table and sat down. Daphne followed suit. He picked up his glass, took another sip and looked at her, as if pondering how to start their conversation.

He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before deciding on what to ask. 'What happened in that hospital room while I was unconscious? How much did I tell?'

Her heart plummeted into the deepest pit of her stomach. Now the time to come clean with him had come. She took another sip of champagne to fortify herself for his next outburst of anger and put the glass onto the table. 'Pretty much everything, I guess. Healer Petite said that you were suffering from a severe mental trauma, and that he'd designed a part of the potions to deal with that. During the treatment, you hallucinated for a couple of hours each day, and went through what seemed like every bad memory or experience that you have ever had.'

Her hands trembled in her lap, and she folded them to hide the trembling from Harry. 'I had no idea that a human being could go through so much without breaking apart. You relived the moment when Voldemort killed your mother and what followed after that on that night in every detail until you finally fell asleep in Professor Hagrid's arms. It was the same with everything else. I… I know how your relatives reacted when they found you the next morning, and where they kept you. I know everything about the Harry Hunting and the beating, and I've learned about every injury you suffered under their so-called care.'

She cast a side glance at Harry and bit her lips. Her heart beat in her throat. How would he react?

He avoided to meet her gaze and stared across the river, his eyes empty and unseeing. The fingers of his right hand tapped a nervous dance on his thigh. 'What about my time at elementary school? What about Hogwarts?'

Daphne lowered her head. 'The same.' Something caught in her throat, and she took a sip of champagne to go on. 'I know about the incident with the blue wig.' A small giggle escaped her at that. Her head jerked up and she stared at him. 'Sorry, Harry, I don't mean to disrespect what you've been through. But it was kind of funny, you know. He'd been so unfair to you and deserved it.'

He froze and stared back at her, his jaw set and his eyes cold. Merlin, he'd never forgive her this. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she blinked until her sight wasn't blurry anymore. She wasn't going to show him how much his attitude affected her, she was already vulnerable enough because of her feelings for him; no need to give him more ammunition.

Harry's stare was replaced by a reluctant grin. 'I guess it was funny.' The grin vanished. 'What came next wasn't so funny, however.'

'No, it wasn't. Neither was what your uncle did to you after the rooftop incident.'

His fingers resumed their nervous dance on his thigh. 'I guess it's a safe bet to assume that you now know every detail about my encounters with Voldemort, and about the… Horcruxes?'

Daphne bit her lips and nodded. 'Yes.' Her voice was barely above a whisper. 'I also know about the one you carried inside of you. Which is why we are now here, the last memory was of your medical with Healer Payne when you were going to join the Aurors.' Again she had to blink back the tears.

The fingers stopped dancing. Harry's eyes probed her face, his expression guarded. 'What are you going to do with the knowledge you've obtained? Are you going to blackmail me into submission, like your father did? Will I be your puppet and have to dance to your tune for the rest of my life?'

What? What was he thinking of her? Heat flushed into her face, and she glared at him, her hands balled to fists in her lap. 'I'll never betray you, Harry. If you want me to, I'll take a magical vow of confidentiality.'

His eyes widened, and he tilted his head to the side, his brows gathered. After a few seconds, his lips parted in a silent "oh", and he straightened. 'No …' He coughed clearing his throat. 'That won't be necessary. You'll have my trust Daphne, and you'll have it until you prove that you can't be trusted.'

She blinked. That was unexpected; it was against everything she'd learned about him while she listened to him talking about his past under the potion.

'You seem surprised?'

Daphne nodded. 'Yeah; that's not what I expected.'

'Mr Weasley gave me some good advice on the night I decided to take your father's… offer. He said not to take it out on you, to give you - us - a chance to find out what we could be. I'd really like to see us become at least friends and partners. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have insinuated that you would use what you learnt against me, I just … As you already know, I don't have a good track record on having people in my life whom I can trust, but I need to start somewhere with that, so I will trust you, though it goes against every instinct for self preservation that I have, I can tell you.'

Warmth spread through her whole body, and she closed her eyes for a second. He wanted to become her friend… at least, he'd said. Did that mean - even more? Her heart drummed in her chest, and it was impossible to contain her broad smile. 'Thank you for your trust, Harry. I hope I'll never disappoint you. I'd also like to see us become at least friends and partners.'

He raised his glass at her. 'Here's to that!'

She clinked her glass with his. The swarm of butterflies had taken residence in her belly once again, and a smile seemed to be tattooed permanently to her face. He'd given her a sign of hope, and she'd be damned if she let this chance slip through her fingers.

* * *

 _tschilp - tschilp - tschilp_

The infernal sparrows felt as at home in this part of Paris as they did on the _Ile-de-la-Cité._

Daphne groaned and opened her eyes for a slit. The early morning sun fell through the open door of the balcony. A flock of sparrows had settled down on the iron chairs and table and picked up the crumbles left from the dinner she and Harry had shared on that balcony yesterday night.

Harry! Would she ever be able not to grin like a loon whenever she thought of him? She turned around to his side of the bed to find it empty, however, the sound of the shower running in the bathroom betrayed his whereabouts. She laid back and snuggled into the duvet.

He'd been the perfect gentleman last night and even suggested to transfigure the chair in front of the vanity to a camp bed for him. Of course she'd put an end to that nonsense at once. They'd have to live as husband and wife from now on, so they'd better get used to sharing a bed right from the start. Everything else would happen in its own course, whenever they were ready for that.

Actually, Harry seemed to be thankful for her matter-of-fact attitude towards their situation, and in the cover of the darkness that mercifully prevented them from having to look at the other they had managed to have a long talk about how they wanted to progress with their marriage and their future family. She'd take it as a good omen that they were on the same page with almost everything they had talked about.

The shower stopped; a few minutes later the door of the bathroom opened and Harry stepped out. He had wrapped a towel around his narrow hips and strode towards the only chair of the room where he'd put his jeans the previous night. Her breath caught.

Yes, the potion had done a wonderful job. There was nothing left of the scrawny kid she remembered from school. The new Harry looked delectable, there was no other word for it. The hairs raised on her arms and neck, and her belly fluttered almost painful. For how long was she supposed to keep her composure if she was treated to a sight like that day after day from now on?

He turned around, and their eyes met. A wave of heat shot into her face. This would be the right moment for the earth to open and swallow her. Or maybe she could get away with just drawing the blanket over her face and pretending to be still asleep? She closed her eyes.

'Good morning, Daphne. Peeping at your husband again?'

She didn't need to see his face to know he was grinning: the amusement in his voice was impossible not to hear. She opened her eyes and glared at him. 'Most unintentionally, I assure you. You are the one who flaunted it.'

He had his jeans in his hands and searched for something in the pockets. 'If you say so, my dear wife.'

There was that devastating lopsided grin again. Oh, he was so begging for it! She grabbed the pillow beside hers and threw it at him.

He tried to pull his hand out of the pocket of his jeans and catch the pillow, got stuck, and the pillow hit him midriff. The towel around his waist loosened under the impact and slid to the ground.

'Eeep!'

His eyes widened, and his face flushed a violent shade of red. He shook his hand out of the pocket of his jeans, bent down to pick up the towel and the jeans, and with both pressed in front of his neither regions dashed to the bathroom as fast as a bolt of lightning.

The door banged shut behind him.

Something bubbled up in Daphne, and the next moment she laughed until the tears streamed down her face.

Harry came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, this time fully dressed, though his face was still flushed.

She didn't bother to hide her amusement and gave him a broad grin.

'You owe me one,' he said.

'Dream on, Potter.' She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and got up. Her short, lacy nightgown didn't cover up much of her. It had been Astoria's wedding present, and of course her little sister had managed to embarrass her beyond anything when she gave it to her the night before her wedding, and by ensuring that Matty had removed all her other sleepwear.

Tori had laughed at her. _Don't be daft, Ducky. You want him, so you've got to use everything at your disposal,_ she'd said. Tori had a point: she wanted him. However, she wanted more than his body, she also wanted his heart, his soul, his mind … she wanted all of him. She bit her lip. Well, she had to start somewhere, hadn't she? She wouldn't get any of it if she didn't catch his attention. It was time to act on Tori's advice.

She took her time walking to the wardrobe where she had deposited her shrunken trunk the day before, and made sure to wriggle her behind once or twice as she bent down to pick up her clothes for the day. Was that enough to catch his interest? Yes, if the silence in the room was any indication. She turned and walked to the bathroom. Her hand on the handle of the door, she looked over her shoulder.

Harry turned his head away, face flushed, and licked his lips.

She gave him her sweetest smile. 'I'll be ready in a jiffy.'

'Right, yeah,' he said. His voice sounded hoarse, and his eyes didn't meet hers.

She slipped into the bathroom, her heart hammering in her chest. Oh yes, she had caught his attention. A broad smile spread over her face, and she pumped her fist in the air.

 _t.b.c._


	35. Chapter 32

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Today at the bottom

Chapter **32** only, 15/04/18 - but almost 5k words

 **32**

About an hour later they walked down into the lobby.

' _Madame et monsieur_ Potter, you've got visitors.' The receptionist indicated with his hand towards a group of upholstered chairs around low coffee tables in the hotel lobby.

Daphne looked at Harry. Who would visit them on their honeymoon?

Harry's face lit up. 'Great, I was afraid they couldn't make it.' He took Daphne by the arm and led her towards the lounge area.

A young couple smiled at them.

Daphne gasped. 'Fleur, Bill!' She rushed to the young Veela who had become a friend to her over the last couple of weeks and hugged her. 'I had no idea you were in Paris.'

Harry, who exchanged a handshake with Bill, turned around at her words. 'I contacted them and asked them to come yesterday evening when you were in the bathroom. You mentioned you needed to go shopping for a dress for that Golden Apple Charity Dinner your mother is hosting in October, so I thought we'd better enlist Fleur's help. Afterall, she lived in Paris before she married Bill, and she tells me she knows all the best places.'

She put a hand on Harry's arm and beamed at him. 'Thank you, that's sweet of you.'

Fleur linked her arm with hers. 'Harry also asked for Bill's help. Apparently, you're not the only one who wants to go shopping.'

Harry laughed and gestured with his hands to the legs of his jeans which ended at his ankles. 'I had an unexpected growth spurt lately and am now in dire need of a new wardrobe.'

'Not only a growth spurt, it seems,' Bill said and eyed Harry's shirt that fit rather snug in the shoulders. 'You're looking good, Harry. What became of your glasses?'

Harry grinned. 'I don't need them anymore.'

Bill slapped him on the shoulder. 'That's great. So, everything's alright with you?'

'Yes, I'm better than I've ever been in my life,' Harry said, and led them to the breakfast room. He lowered his voice. 'The potion has worked several miracles. However, it was also the hardest time I've ever had in a hospital. Regrowing the bone in my arm with Skelegrow after Lockhart had vanished it was nothing compared to what I … we have just been through.'

Daphne's cheeks warmed slightly. He had included her! 'You can say that again,' she said, and a mirthless laugh escaped her lips.

They entered the elegant breakfast room. The smell of strong coffee and fresh _croissants_ welcomed them. Bill held out a chair for his wife at a table for four. 'Was it that bad?'

'It was the worst thing I ever had to go through,' Daphne said. Her eyes stung, and she blinked a few times to keep herself from crying. Harry's hand was on the table beside hers, and after all these gruelling hours she'd spent beside his bed, held his hand and comforted him, it was the most natural thing on earth to take his hand.

Harry turned his head, his eyebrows raised, and gave her a contemplative look.

Heat rushed in her face. Of course he wouldn't remember what had happened while he was under the potion, he hadn't been himself most of the time. She pulled her hand away and cast a side glance at their guests. Had they noticed the moment of awkwardness?

Bill was studying the menu in search for additions the hotel offered to the plain continental breakfast of _croissants_ , _baguette_ , butter and jam. Fleur, however, gave her a small, knowing smile and a wink that indicated they'd talk later.

During breakfast, they made plans for the day. Fleur insisted they split up. 'I'll take Daphne to my favourite shops, and you'll go with Harry, Bill, or we'll never get everything done until tonight.'

'Yes, my love,' Bill replied, an amused smile around his lips. 'What about lunch?'

'Daphne and I will grab a salad somewhere,' Fleur said and waved her hands in a dismissive gesture.

Bill and Harry froze and exchanged an appalled look, and Daphne almost laughed out loud. No way they'd be content with a salad for lunch. 'Why don't you two have lunch together, and we all meet tonight for dinner?' she said.

Her idea met approval, and a short time later the two young couples split up and headed to their different destinations.

Fleur hailed a taxi. ' _Galeries Lafayette_ ,' she said to the driver and added something in rapid French Daphne didn't understand. She turned to Daphne in the back seat of the car. 'What kind of dress are you looking for?'

Daphne bit her lip. Until now, she'd done all her shopping for clothes together with Mother, and Mother's notions of what was becoming for a young girl were somewhat Victorian at their best. 'Something different, that's for sure. I'm so tired of looking like a little girl.'

Fleur's eyebrows went up, and she gave her an appraising look.

Oh, she knew how Fleur must see her: she looked like a twelve-year-old. She'd held back her hair with a bandana, and dressed in a straight jeans skirt that ended well below her knees, a light blue blouse with little puffed sleeves and matching ballet flats. There wasn't anything better in her wardrobe, Mother had prevented that.

'I see your point. So, you're striving for a complete new look?' Fleur asked.

Daphne took a deep breath. It was now or never. 'Yes!'

A delighted grin spread over Fleur's face, and she clapped her hands. _'Merveilleux!_ Of course you'll need a new haircut. There's a wonderful _coiffeur_ at the _Galeries_. Oh, I can't wait to begin!'

Not even ten minutes later the taxi pulled up in front of the famous department store. Fleur left her no time to get her bearings, grabbed her by the hand, and almost dragged her to the hairdresser. In another blink of an eye she was seated in front of a huge crystal mirror, a pink cape spread over her clothes, and a young woman, not much older than her, asked for her wishes in rapid French.

She shrugged her shoulders and held out her hands, palms up, in a gesture of defeat. 'I didn't understand a word.'

Fleur laughed. 'She asked what haircut you wanted.'

'Something completely different. I want to get rid of the Alice-look.'

'Alice look?'

Daphne cast the young hairdresser a look from under her eyelashes. Most French didn't understand English, though, you never knew. Under the cover of the cloak she slipped her wand in her hand and thought, 'Muffliato!'

'Alice in Wonderland, a famous book by the Muggle author Lewis Carrol. One of my great-grandmothers was friends with him, so Tori and I grew up with this story. Alice is a young girl about twelve, I think, and often depicted in a demure dress and her hair held back by a bandana.'

The hairdresser stuck her finger in her ear, as if she had problems with her hearing. Good, the spell worked.

Fleur laughed. 'Ah, I see! Do you trust me, Daphne? I have an idea how to get rid of that look. However, it will mean you have to depart with most of your hair.'

'I trust you Fleur, do your best,' Daphne said. Anything was better than her boring straight, long hair. As soon as the words were out, her heart plummeted into her shoes. Into what had she got herself?

However, it was too late. A frantic gleam had appeared in Fleur's eyes, and she conversed in rapid French with the hairdresser - too fast for her to follow - while the hairdresser draped and combed her hair in different directions.

The discussion ended, and the hairdresser vanished behind a curtain that closed off a back room of the salon, only to return a couple of minutes later with a plastic cup filled with a strong smelling blue foam and a roll of aluminium foil in her hands. For the next thirty minutes, the hairdresser, assisted by an even younger apprentice, put the blue foam on strands of her hair with a brush and wrapped them in aluminium foil.

Daphne regarded her reflection in the mirror with furrowed eyebrows. She looked hilarious; thank Merlin Harry didn't see her like this.

Fleur had sat down beside her and paged through a couple of fashion magazines. Every now and then she'd point out looks to Daphne she thought would suit her.

'What is she doing with my hair?' Daphne asked in a whisper.

Fleur looked up from the magazine and gave her a broad smile. 'Don't worry, she's putting highlights in your hair. You'll love it. It's very difficult to get the same result with a Colouring Potion. You can freshen up the highlights with a Colour Spell if you don't want to go to a Muggle hairdresser every few weeks.'

She still had no idea what Fleur was talking about, and just nodded. A few minutes later the hairdresser put her under a hairdryer Fleur called the strange thing that looked like a plastic bonnet that hovered over her head, and gave her some fashion magazines to read.

It was warm under that hairdryer, too warm for an already hot early July morning, although the building was rather cool, thanks to whatever the Muggles had invented to imitate Cooling Charms. She looked around for the hairdresser. Thank Merlin, she was coming back to her.

The hairdresser unwrapped one of the strands, nodded, and motioned Daphne with her hand to walk to a line with sinks.

Ten minutes later she was back in front of the mirror. The aluminium foil was gone, and she had a first look at her still wet hair. It seemed lighter, however, the hairdresser left her no time for contemplation when she grabbed for her scissor, took a strand of Daphne's hair between her fingers and cut it off rather high.

Merlin, what was the woman doing to her? She closed her eyes. She didn't open them as the girl put away the scissor after what had been the most daunting forty minutes of her life, and now took a brush, a blow-dryer, and some sort of spray and styled her hair into a new form.

' _Voilá,'_ the hairdresser said, and put out the blow-dryer.

She opened her eyes and looked into the mirror. The Alice-in-Wonderland-look was gone, that much was for sure. Her hair, now a shade lighter because of the highlights, was only just reaching her shoulders and played around her face in a fringy haircut.

'How do you like yourself?' Fleur asked. Her face beamed at her in the mirror.

Did she like it? It was a shock to see her waist long hair gone; barring that, she'd overcome the Alice-in-Wonderland-look without any doubt. Gone was the school girl, and a stylish young woman looked back at her from the mirror.

A huge smile spread over her face. 'Yes, I love it!'

'Good!' Fleur hugged her from behind. 'Lean back, we need to do your makeup.'

Daphne closed her eyes again. She as good as never wore makeup; Father detested it and deemed it inappropriate for young girls, except for special occasions. She'd used some colourless lip gloss and mascara at school, albeit never at home. It was about time to change that, too.

Twenty minutes later she looked at her new appearance in the mirror. Thank Merlin, she was still able to recognise herself. Even though she wore a full face of makeup, she didn't look like it. Her eyes were emphasised with some mascara and eyeliner, and instead of lip gloss she now wore lipstick in a light shade of red. She could live with that.

'Are you ready for the real fun?' Fleur's voice broke into her thoughts. She nodded, got up and went to pay.

Fleur linked arms with her and led her to the women's clothes department. From that point on, things became hazy. Father had given her a Bottomless Pouch and a Muggle credit card on the night before the wedding, together with the vault statements for her and Harry's vaults. The numbers at the bottom of the statements had made her eyes bulge. Even though her family was one of the wealthiest in Europe, Father had kept Tori and her on a short leash and watched their expenses closely. She knew that even with the staggering sum Harry had to pay for his treatment, there was more than enough money left for Harry and her to indulge themselves.

So, when she and Fleur sat down for a late lunch four hours later at the almost deserted salad bar of the _Galeries Lafayette_ , shopping bags piled up in the empty seat beside her. They had not only found the perfect dress for Mother's charity event in October, but also bought a complete new wardrobe for her, and every piece more sexy and eye-catching than Mother ever would've deemed appropriate - not to mention Father.

The waiter came to take their orders, and served their drinks almost immediately.

Daphne let her eyes wander around. She had been shopping at Harrods' before with Mother. After all, the Greengrasses had vast interests in the Muggle world, and therefore frequently had to interact with Muggles. Contrary to most wizards and witches they knew how to dress, act and mingle with Muggles without raising suspicion. However, the elegance of the _Galeries Lafayette_ surpassed the somewhat stiff atmosphere of the traditional British department store. Three floors of galeries rose above a huge ground floor. Everything was crowned by a gigantic glass cupola. From her place near the railing she had a good view at the shoppers in the opposite galeries and on the ground floor.

She gave Fleur a smile. 'I like it here. Thanks for taking me shopping here.'

'It has all my favourite shops,' Fleur said and took a sip of her drink. 'You'll get everything you need here, and you can take a break at one of the many restaurants when your feet hurt or you are hungry.'

She winked at Daphne, and Daphne broke out into giggles. Both girls had slipped out of their shoes as soon as they sat down.

The waiter served their salads soon after. After he had left, Fleur gave her an appraising look across the table, took her fork and speared some lettuce. 'How are things between you and Harry?'

'Better than I expected,' Daphne said, and picked up her own cutlery. 'Things were tense for a while when he found out that I learned most if not all of his secrets during his treatment, secrets he'd rather have kept under the rug. Entering that hotel room with him also wasn't easy. We had a long talk about our situation yesterday, and agreed on how we want to go on.'

Fleur raised her eyebrows, slid closer on her chair and leaned towards Daphne. 'And that is?'

Daphne's cheeks grew warm. 'Well, we agreed that we want to get to know each other and become friends before we… progress.' She didn't dare look at Fleur.

'Oh!' Fleur's eyebrows almost reached the line of her hair. 'How soon do you want to progress, if I may ask?'

Daphne shrugged her shoulders. 'It depends how comfortable we feel with each other, I guess.' She took a sip of her drink to hide her glowing face.

Fleur gave her a knowing glance. 'Guessing by the clothes you bought this morning, I suspect that you can't wait to become comfortable with him.'

The heat in Daphne's cheeks intensified. Could this talk get any more embarrassing? A warm hand covered hers.

'Don't worry Daphne, I'll help you,' Fleur said.

Daphne startled. 'Why are you doing this?'

Fleur retreated her hand. 'Because you are my friend, a very new friend but a friend nonetheless, and I get the added bonus that it'll anger my loving sister-in-law to no end.'

Daphne let out a small snort. 'I take it you don't like her.'

'Not at all.' Fleur said with a harsh laugh. 'I tried, really, I did. Nothing I did mattered or helped. She was against me from the very first moment; she put in zero effort to get to know me. Do you know that she calls me Phlegm behind my back? She thinks I am unaware. How dumb does she think I am? I wasn't chosen as a Triwizard Champion by the Goblet of Fire for nothing.' She took a shuddering breath. 'I shouldn't let her get to me like that. She's nothing but a spoilt brat. However, she's also Bill's baby sister, and he loves her to bits. I have to try and get along with her for Bill's sake, it isn't easy though, I can tell you.'

She gave Daphne a broad smile. 'So, if you want to pry your husband's heart out of Ginevra's clutches, I'm game. Harry's much too nice and far too forgiving for her; she will and does walk all over him. However, I can't point that out to him, unfortunately he won't see it yet. So I will help and protect him in any way I can. Tell me what you want to achieve, and I'll help you; I will help Harry by helping you capture and keep his heart, if that is what you desire.'

Daphne bit her lower lip. Should she tell Fleur about her attempt to catch Harry's interest, could she capture his heart? Truth to be told, she'd have been out of her depth if he'd done more than just stare at her, however titillating that had been. After all, Fleur was married for almost a year and had way more experience than she had, surely she'd be able to give her some good advice on enrapturing the man of her dreams?

She took a deep breath and told Fleur what she'd done that morning to attract Harry's attention.

Fleur listened while she ate her salad. When Daphne finished her story, she clapped her hands with a delighted chuckle. ' _C'est fantastique!_ You are already well on your way, I'd say. However, new outfits isn't everything you need. I know exactly the place where we will go this afternoon. Harry won't know what hit him.' A feral grin spread over her face, and for a blink of an eye Daphne saw the predator-bird-like creature behind the beauty.

After their lunch, Fleur led her out of the department store and hailed a taxi that drove them to a small shop on the _Rue St. Honoré._

Daphne's face, neck and ears became uncomfortably hot as soon as she entered the shop and her eyes fell on the most exciting lingerie she'd ever seen. Compared to this, the negligé Tori had given her for her wedding night seemed prudish.

Harry wouldn't know what hit him, indeed, if she ever had the guts to parade around in front of him in these delicate objects. However, would she know how to deal with him? She took a deep breath. She had to start somewhere, hadn't she?

Fleur must have seen her face and understood her dilemma, 'I think you misunderstand, my dear Daphne; these aren't for Harry alone. No, these are for you, if he sees you in them, so much the better. There is a silly little English saying that I have heard, "Cotton for you and Lace for him." Rubbish!'

Fleur looked her in the eyes. 'These will empower you, you will feel sexy in them, powerful, yet feminine. When you put these on, no one except someone you want to see them will see you in them, but you will know that you are wearing them and you will feel confident that you are a beautiful, sexy and powerful woman, and nothing can stop you from achieving your goals.'

Fleur gave her a conspiratorial wink. 'Lay a set of these out before you get ready, and he will be thinking all night about what you look like in them.'

* * *

Harry was already back in their room when she returned late in the afternoon. He lay on the bed and watched tv. At her sight his eyebrows went up. 'Wow!'

She blushed, raised her hand and twirled one of her short locks around her finger. 'Do you like it?'

He gave her an appraising look, then nodded. 'Yes; you looked like a twelve-year-old.' He cringed as the word slipped out. 'Sorry. This is much better.' He indicated with his hand at the shopping bags in her hands. 'I hope you left something in the shop for the other customers to buy.'

'Oh, plenty,' she said, leaned the shopping bags and her purse against the wall and, emboldened by his agreement with her new look, plopped down next to him on her side of the bed. She slipped out of her ballet flats and stretched out on the soft bed with a tired sigh. 'These are the bags I carried for the benefit of the staff. The rest are shrunken and in my purse.'

He gave her his trademark lopsided grin. 'My, my, Mrs Potter, you've been busy.'

The swarm of butterflies that had taken permanent residence in her belly ever since their wedding fluttered, and she averted her eyes. Her gaze fell on the chair in front of the dressing table. A stack of shopping bags covered the seat, and additional bags leaned against its legs. She snorted. 'You're one to talk.'

He joined her laughter, swung his legs over the edge of the bed and got up. 'Merlin, I'm parched after this day of shopping.' He went to the minibar and got a bottle of water out of it. He showed it to her. 'You want some?'

'Yes, please.'

He poured the water into two glasses, handed one to her and settled back onto the bed, his upper body propped up against the headboard. 'Bill made dinner reservations for tonight,' he told her between two sips.

Daphne put her glass on the bedside table and looked at her wristwatch. 'And you tell me that now? How much time have we left until we have to be ready? I need a shower, and I need to change.'

Harry grinned. 'Don't worry, we're going to meet them at eight. Plenty of time to get ready.'

'That's something only a male can say,' she said and sprung to her feet. 'You can shower and change when I'm ready.' She walked over to her stack of shopping bags and pulled out a set of the sinful new silk lingerie she'd bought that afternoon. She put the underwear at the foot of her side of the bed, took a handful of shrunken shopping bags out of her purse and enlarged them. While she searched the bags for a dress to wear that evening and matching shoes, she cast a surreptitious look at Harry.

The clothes, or strips of fabric rather, on her side of the bed were hard to overlook. He had his head averted and a faint blush dusted his cheekbones.

Daphne grinned into the bag in front of her. Oh, Fleur had been spot on with her advice. It didn't take much to keep him on his toes around her. She snatched up the items of clothes she had decided on and slipped into the bathroom to shower and dress up for the night in a blue sleeveless dress with pink and white flowers printed on it. The wide skirt billowed over a matching white petticoat with blue and pink flowers that stuck out from under the skirt for four inches, yet still ended so high above her knees that Mother would suffer a severe shock. Her waist looked tiny in the dress, and her legs seemed endless, a fact emphasised by the white, high-heeled sandals she wore.

When she emerged from the bathroom, Harry still was on the bed. He had a deep frown on his face and studied a newspaper clipping in his hand. More clippings were scattered around him.

At her entrance he looked up, and the frown on his face gave place to an appreciative smile. 'Wow, you look good.'

Warmth crept into her cheeks. This was the second compliment he paid her, she could get used to that. 'Thank you.' She sat down on her side on the bed and motioned with her hand towards the newspaper clippings. 'What are you reading?'

The smile vanished from his face, and he frowned again. 'Your father sent Matty with these while you were under the shower. It seems _The Daily Prophet_ has a field day with our marriage. There are other clippings, too, from a few European newspapers, and from the USA, Australia and India; however, they aren't as bad as the articles in the _Prophet.'_

Daphne rolled her eyes. 'That was to be expected, wasn't it? Let me guess, I'm a scheming, budding Dark Witch who got you in her clutches by Love Potions and Dark Magic?'

That made him laugh. 'Right in one. However, they changed their tunes when your father made a press statement that our marriage was because of an old family agreement.'

'And that's better because…?' She raised her eyebrows at him.

He shifted on the bed and turned red. 'Uh… Not really. Now Skeeter speculates about the state of our marriage, and how long it will last.' His eyes didn't meet hers. 'I'd better get ready, too,' he said and got up.

Daphne didn't reply. She watched how he took fresh clothes out of his bags and walked into the bathroom, then she gathered the newspaper clippings and studied them.

He hadn't told her everything. Skeeter was well aware of Harry's relationship with the Weaselette - after all, they hadn't made a secret about it - and gushed about the separated lovers, while she also spared a few lines of false sympathy for her: would Harry be faithful to her or would their marriage forever be overshadowed by a continued adulterous relationship to the Weaselette?

Well, that was something she and Skeeter had in common. She'd also like to know whether Harry planned on continuing his relationship with the obnoxious redhead. However, that was an elephant in the room she didn't dare to bring up, at least not yet. They didn't know each other well enough for that discussion.

The door of the bathroom opened and interrupted her thoughts. Harry came out, dressed in tan slacks and a white and emerald striped button-down shirt. He still didn't look at her while he slipped into a pair of dress shoes.

The elephant in the room grew until it took up almost all of the space.

This was ridiculous. She had to do something about it. She cleared her throat. 'We have to talk, Harry.'

He turned around to her and shoved his hands into the pocket of his slacks, though his eyes still didn't meet hers. 'What's there to talk? This is our fourth year all over again, isn't it? Skeeter will write about us what she pleases and we can't do anything about it.'

He bent his head and scowled at the floor.

She got up, walked over to him and put a hand on his arm. 'Yes, that's true, unfortunately. However, it depends on us if we give her additional ammunition, don't you think?'

Harry's head jerked up, and he stared at her, a frown on his face.

'She can't do much if we present a united front at the outside. Oh, she will speculate, there's no doubt about that, but people won't listen to her if what they see doesn't match up to what she writes.'

His eyes searched her face. 'Alright, what do you want from me? I'm not following you here.'

'You and I have to appear as the happy young couple in public. We never, ever show that we didn't enter in this marriage on our own free will. We're not allowed to show any disagreement between us when we're in public. If we do have disagreements, we need to clear the air in private and behind strong privacy wards.'

Harry nodded to her words, and a weight lifted off her mind. Phew, who'd have thought he'll agree that easily? However, she had to mention the Weaselette, there was no way around it. She bit her lip, took a deep breath and steadied herself.

'There's one thing more. Whatever you're going to do, please be discreet about it.'

He stared at her, incomprehension written all over his face. Then his eyes went huge, and he blushed. He turned away from her. 'You don't have to worry about that.'

She stared at his back, and her heart sank into the deepest pit of her stomach. So, he was going to continue his relationship with the Weaselette. Well, she'd expected that, didn't she? She bit on her lips until the pressure behind her eyes subsided. She was the intruder in this _ménage à trois,_ she had no right to feel hurt. If she repeated that mantra to herself often enough, she'd be able to believe it - eventually.

 _t.b.c._

* * *

 **Author's notes:** As always, a big thank you to Shygui for an amazing job with editing. It was his idea to involve Fleur and Bill, and I think the story profited from Daphne having an older friend to support and guide her, and from Daphne and Harry to start to make mutual friends. Once again, thank you, Shygui, you are the best!


	36. Chapter 33

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Another big thank you to my fantastic editor Shygui. Without him the story wouldn't be what it is today.

Chapter **33** , 19/03/18 - again, one chapter only, but 6k+ words

 **33**

Bill had reserved a table for them at the _La Poule au Pot._ It was a dainty place, with flowered wallpaper and a bar gleaming with lots of brass. They sat on bistro chairs around a round table that was covered with a white tablecloth and had a vase with flowers in the middle.

Daphne looked around. 'It has somehow the feeling of a private dining room at the house of an old-fashioned aunt.'

' _Oui,_ it was founded in the thirties and hasn't changed much since then. It's one of the traditional _bistros_ that still serve traditional French food,' Fleur said.

The waiter served their aperitives, and Bill raised his glass. 'To Daphne and Harry. We wish you all the happiness in the world.'

Harry suppressed a sigh as he replied to the toast. They'd need all good wishes they could get, although thus far they got along better than he'd dared to hope.

He cast a side glance at his bride. She'd surprised him with her new look this afternoon, the shoulder length haircut suited her and she'd also ditched the childlike clothes she'd worn whenever they'd met prior to their wedding. Those clothes had apparently hidden her figure to a point where he hadn't realised she had curves.

His jaw almost had hit the floor when she came out of the bathroom, dressed up to meet Bill and Fleur. It had taken all his willpower not to gape, and he'd caught himself that he checked out her long, shapely legs when he walked behind her to the elevator and briefly found himself trying to picture her in the tiny underwear she had laid out, a line of thought he severed when he felt heat begin to rise in his face. Yep, in the looks department of his wife he was one lucky wizard, however, looks weren't everything…

'What are your plans for your stay in Paris?' Fleur's voice interrupted his musings. He exchanged a look with Daphne.

She shrugged her shoulders. 'To be honest, we haven't talked about that yet.'

'Yeah, I haven't thought about that, either. What do you suggest, Fleur? After all, you lived here.'

Fleur gave him a blinding smile. 'I'd hoped you'd ask that.' She launched into a detailed enumeration of the many things a young couple in love could do in Paris, that began with a visit to _Montmartre_ and ended with an intimate dinner at the _Jules Verne,_ the restaurant on top of the Eiffel Tower. Her Parisian must do lecture lasted well until after the waiter had served them the first course.

Harry's throat tightened while he listened to Fleur. He lowered his head and swallowed hard, while his fingers clutched around the cutlery in his hands. Merlin, he would've loved to do all these things with Ginny, however, he couldn't see himself doing any of it with Daphne, not for the life of him.

Bill seemed to sense his uneasiness. He put his hand on his wife's. 'Maybe it's too soon for them to do anything of that, love.'

Fleur's face fell.

Daphne came to her rescue. She put down her cutlery and wiped her mouth with her napkin. 'Besides that, I'm not sure if it's such a good idea for us to stay in Paris most of the time anyway, what do you think, Harry?' She looked at him, picked up her wine glass and took a sip.

'Why's that?' Bill asked with raised eyebrows.

'Well, Cyrus sent me the newspaper clippings about our wedding this afternoon. I guess you've read them, so you know that Skeeter wasn't very nice in her dealings with Daphne. Since it's known that we're in Paris, we think it's very likely that she and at least a couple more reporters are here, looking for us. We talked about that on our way to the restaurant and agreed that we don't want to deal with them until we're more… uh, comfortable with each other,' Harry said.

Daphne nodded to his explanation.

Bill and Fleur exchanged a look. 'That makes sense,' Bill said.

A mischievous gleam appeared in Fleur's eyes. 'You'll have to get the Apparition Point Registry for France. There are so many fabulous places where you can go. For instance, there's Fecamp in Normandy...' She launched into another detailed exposition on the wonders of France.

The other three looked at each other and broke out into laughter.

* * *

The next morning, however, Harry sat in the lush grass on top of a cliff and looked down on the amazing shapes nature had carved out of the white high coast that dropped into the sea almost vertically. One rock jutted out of the water like a needle, and the one next to it looked like an elephant that dipped its trunk into the water. A warm, salty smelling summer breeze played with his hair, and above all were the constant cries of the seagulls.

'It's beautiful here, isn't it?' a soft voice beside him said. He turned his head and looked at the young woman next to him. His wife - would he ever get used to calling her that? Even more important, would he ever get used to living with her?

He suppressed a sigh and forced a smile on his face. 'Yeah, it is. Are you ready to continue our walk?'

A stroll on top of the cliffs of Étretat had been one of the many things Fleur had suggested to them during dinner. He and Daphne had discussed her suggestions as they ambled back to their hotel rather late at night, and agreed to try out at least a few of the places she had recommended. He'd called Kreacher that morning while Daphne was still in the bathroom, and asked him to get an Apparition Point Registry for France.

Daphne returned his smile and scrambled to her feet. 'Yeah, I'd love to see more of this amazing coast.'

Harry followed suit. He cast another look at her. She'd changed in the few days since their marriage.

Most noticeable and obvious was the change in her appearance. He hadn't been overly impressed with her when he saw her for the first time on the day they signed their wedding agreement. She'd been pretty, yes, but also rather pale and insignificant, a girl that always melted into the background and was overlooked. The clothes she'd worn had added to that impression.

That wasn't true anymore. While nothing about her screamed for attention, she couldn't be overlooked, either. Her new haircut and the subtle makeup she wore emphasised the fine-boned, classical structure of her face. She was a beauty, however, not as stunning as Ginny; Daphne's beauty was elegant and understated, and would probably last beyond the time when Ginny's looks began to wither.

Now, where had that thought come from?

'I'd give anything to have my broom right now and take a fly among these cliffs.' She pointed down to the bizarre formations below them.

'You like flying?'

She laughed and pushed a strand of her hair the wind had blown into her face behind her ear. 'Yeah, what's so amazing about that? All wizards and witches fly.'

He shook his head. 'No, that isn't strictly true. Hermione hates flying, and I don't think I've seen Neville on a broom ever since flying instruction in our first year. Not to mention I've never seen you flying at Hogwarts, either, beyond that class.'

'Well, that's because there's not much opportunity for flying at Hogwarts outside of the Quidditch teams, and Slytherin unfortunately has or had a no-girls-policy for their team,' Daphne said and grimaced.

Harry's eyebrows shot up at that. 'You play Quidditch?' He cast a surreptitious look at her soft and delicate body that was so unlike Ginny's muscular, athletic figure. She'd never have the strength to hold on to a broom for a long, fast paced match.

'Merlin, no!' She laughed and shook her head and nudged his shoulder with her own. 'I love the feeling of freedom while I'm in the air, but the thought of a Bludger slamming into my face never appealed to me, though I love to watch a good game. I always enjoyed your games when we were at Hogwarts, never a dull moment, when you were on the pitch.'

A slow smile spread over his face. At last he'd discovered something they had in common. Should he suggest to find out where to rent brooms and have a flight along the coast? Why not?

Daphne put a hand on his arm and pointed with her free hand down to the base of the elephant-shaped rock in front of them. 'Look, Harry.' A small, open boat cruised through the portal framed by the legs and the trunk of the elephant. 'It seems there are tours along the coast available from Étretat. Maybe we can take one when we're back in the village?'

He looked down on her hand on his bare arm. His skin tingled where she touched him, however, it wasn't an unpleasant feeling.

'Yeah, looks like fun.' He gave her a small smile, and they continued their walk.

Daphne's behaviour towards him was different to the few times they'd met, chaperoned by her mother, previous to their wedding. She'd kept her distance then, as if she'd been afraid of him. That had also changed. She'd opened up, and she'd often search physical contact with him, might it be that she took his hand or put her hand on his arm.

Strangely enough, he didn't mind. It was… nice. It felt familiar, as if she'd done it many times before. What had happened between them while he'd been under that potion? His memories were hazy, he'd been unconscious most of the time, however, he remembered a loving voice and a tender hand that had kept him from falling into the black abyss that threatened to swallow him. Had that been her? After all, she'd acted as his anchor, he really needed to look into what that meant. Was it more than just being there to watch over and care for him? If yes, he owed his life to her, not only because she agreed to marry him.

He cast her another side glance. She looked down to the ground, as if contemplating the tips of her white sneakers.

'Uh… Daphne?'

She raised her head and smiled at him. 'Yes, Harry?'

'You mentioned yesterday that we'll have to play the loving couple when we're out in public. What exactly did you mean by that?'

'Well, we can't hide in the Muggle world or behind the wards of _The Rectory_ forever, can we? You'll need to buy new robes, so we have to go to Diagon Alley as soon as we're back, and we'll both attend the magical part of Canterbury University in September. People will see us together, and they'll gossip about us. To prevent the ugly talk, we just have to act like a young couple in love when we're out in the magical world.' A faint blush had crept into her cheeks, and she avoided his eyes.

He swallowed, and his face became hot. She couldn't mean what he thought she meant, could she? He had to be sure. 'Do you mean… we have to be affectionate with each other?'

She didn't answer to that, only nodded, and the blush on her face intensified.

Bugger. This couldn't be true. He tugged at the neckline of his shirt that within the blink of an eye seemed to have become tighter and threatened to choke him. Of course, he knew he would've to become physical with the girl at some point to fulfill the demands of their wedding agreement. Even though he'd had an abysmal upbringing and had next to no experience except some snogging, he'd caught on to the fact that babies didn't grow in cabbage patches.

Well, they had to start somewhere. He swallowed and held his hand out to her. 'Alright; let's get some practise, then.'

She gasped and gave him an incredulous look, but took his hand.

Their fingers interlaced; pleasant tingles spread from his hand through his arm across his whole body. He most likely looked like a tomato in the face right now, and he didn't dare look at her as they continued their walk along the coastline.

When lunchtime drew closer, they decided to return to Étretat. They both were parched and hungry from their walk.

'I've learned my lesson: if I want to have a happy life, keep Daphne fed and watered,' Harry said and winked at her. By now it had become the most natural thing to hold her hand.

She gave him a playful shove with her shoulder. 'That sounds like I'm a horse.'

'Oops!'

They continued their banter as they returned to the village and found an empty table at a _crêperie_ opposite of the old market hall. Over _galettes_ filled with cheese, ham and egg*, a glass of _cidre,_ and under the cover of the Muffliato Charm they talked and got to know each other better, in what, Harry was sure by necessity, was going to be the first of many such conversations.

She told him about her childhood in a Pureblood family that was also living with one foot in the Muggle world. It was apparent by every word and every gesture how much she loved her family, and especially her little sister. Tears glistened in her eyes when she told him of the Blood Curse that had manifested in Astoria when she was still a toddler.

'There's no cure against it. Astoria is strong and fights against her illness, but the Healer at St Mungo's told Mother and Father that she won't live to see her thirtieth birthday. With all the strain of the last year that forced her into the wheelchair I'm afraid it won't be even that long.'

A single tear ran down her cheek.

Before he knew what he was doing, he bent forward and wiped it away with the pad of his thumb.

Her smile was rather watery and she gave his hand a slight nuzzle with her face before he had the chance to draw it away.

A slight electric jolt went through his body, but she averted her face a split second later. Strange, where did that sense of loss come from? At least she hadn't withdrawn her hand that still was holding his other hand, their fingers entwined.

She'd grown up with loving, yet stern and demanding parents. She told him about the days out she had enjoyed with her father when she was a little girl, from the tree house he built for her in the park of _The Rectory_ to the days he took her with him to the headquarters of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products, where she followed him like a small pup, eager to learn about her future duties and excited that she'd work side by side with him one day.

'I've always been Father's girl, while Tori was Mother's girl,' she said. 'I suppose, that's why it's so hard that he -.' She broke off and bit her lips.

Harry startled, and his breath caught. All of a sudden he knew why she had agreed to marry him. 'He blackmailed you into our marriage like he blackmailed me, didn't he?'

She nodded hesitantly. Her face contorted, and she lowered her head until her features were hidden by her hair. She took a few, deep breaths. When she looked up again, her eyes were dry, and her face was calm. How had she managed that? Her self control was amazing.

'Yes, he did. I should hate him for what he did to me - to us - but I can't. He's my father, and I still love him. And as much as I disagree with his means, I know he did what he believed was best for the family and us.'

Harry made a face at that. 'It still remains to be seen if it was for our best. However, I don't blame you that you don't hate him. He's your father, after all. And while he's not my favourite person right now and I doubt that will change, I promise I'll try not to fight with him, if only for your sake. I don't want you to get caught in a fight between me and your father.'

She put a hand on his arm. 'Thank you, Harry, that's very considerate of you.'

They finished their meal in a contemplative silence.

Harry took a last bite, put down his cutlery and wiped his mouth. He took a sip of the sweet, refreshing _cidre,_ put the glass back on the tableand looked at his wife. There was something about the plans Cyrus had made for them he didn't understand yet. 'Say, Daphne, your father said we both have to start at Canterbury Magical University in September. I don't know about you, but I haven't taken my N.E.W.T.s, so how's that possible?'

'I didn't take my N.E.W.T.s, either,' she said. 'However, for the course in Magical Economics we're both taking we don't need them; the O.W.L.s will suffice. The course is based on the Muggle curriculum, with only little magic, you know. If we like to, we can finish our N.E.W.T.s while working on our university degree. I plan on doing so, I haven't ruled out yet the possibility of taking a Potion Mastery one day.'

He grinned at her. 'Wow, I'm impressed. I was always glad when I made it through potions without blowing up my cauldron.'

'Yeah, Snape had it for you, didn't he. Although I noticed you did much better under Slughorn.' She put down her cutlery and drained her glass. 'What do you think, do we have room for dessert?'

Harry laughed, gave a small inclination of his head and signalled the waiter. 'As _madame_ wishes.'

* * *

The rest on their honeymoon went by in similar fashion. When the week was over and their Portkey dropped them in the living room of _The Coach House,_ they were at least able to act naturally around each other when they were in public. They'd become friends, though they hadn't made any real progress in their physical relationship apart from the holding of hands, the occasional hug and other gentle touches like shoulder bumps.

Harry looked around in the spacious room. He'd had taken no interest whatsoever in what his future life with Daphne would look like, prior to the wedding, and after she'd managed to persuade her father to let them live in the old coach house next to the main house of _The Rectory,_ hehad left it to her to get the house ready for them. He had to give it to her: she had good taste in decor.

Huge, comfortable upholstered blue chairs and sofas were grouped around a fireplace that was big enough to stand in. Their Floo connection, he assumed. A table with six chairs around it, but with room for eight, stood at the opposite side of the room, marking the dining area. Three windows and a glass door that opened to a terrace and the kitchen garden let in a lot of light, and dark beams under the low ceiling gave the room a rustic feel.

'Come on, I'll show you around,' Daphne said and linked arms with him. She led him out of the room into a small hallway. Ahead of them, a steep staircase led to the first floor. Daphne indicated with her hand to a door next to the staircase. 'That's the loo. The door to the left leads to the kitchen.'

Harry opened the door and peeked inside. The white and yellow kitchen had all the essentials, and there was even room for a tiny breakfast corner for two. 'Who's going to cook our meals and do the cleaning?' he asked and closed the door.

Daphne made a face at his question. 'Father insisted that it's too much work for Matty and her daughter Mipsy to clean and cook for us on top of their duties in the main house, so we're on our own, I'm afraid. Unfortunately, how to cook and keep a house clean is not part of the "accomplishments" a Pureblood girl needs to have as part of her repertoire, so I'm pretty clueless when it comes to housekeeping charms. If you ask me, Father did that so we're still forced to take our meals at the main house and he can keep an eye on us.'

Her voice sounded bitter. This was not the first time since their wedding she'd made a rancorous comment about Cyrus Greengrass, and it showed she still hadn't forgiven her father that he'd blackmailed her into this marriage.

'Then you'll be happy to know that I've inherited a house elf from my godfather. Poor Kreacher has had to stay at Hogwarts for the time being, since the house I inherited from my godfather has been vandalised by Death Eaters during the war. I haven't had the time and the money to restore it to its former glory.'

'So, it was your house elf who delivered the flowers to me on our wedding day?' Daphne asked and turned red. 'Thank you, by the way. They were very pretty. I hadn't counted on you sending me flowers.'

His face grew warm. 'You're welcome. But if we are being honest, Bill and Arthur reminded me that I should send you flowers.' He cast her a side glance. Was she offended?

He let out a breath when she broke out into laughter.

'I should've known that!' She took him by the hand and pulled him up the staircase with her. On the first floor landing she pointed to a door to their right. 'I guess you've already seen the bedroom and ensuite.' A faint blush tinged her cheeks, but she didn't give him the time to think about it, and opened a door ahead of them.

Two desks facing each other and a lot of shelves marked this room as a joined study.

Harry whistled. 'Cyrus really meant it when he said we would start our studies in September, didn't he?'

'Oh yes, that he did,' Daphne said. 'And you'd better get rid of your atrocious learning habits, by the way. Believe me, you don't want to be called into Father's study and explain why your grades aren't up to what he expects from his potential successor.'

His irritation levels rose, why didn't that surprise him? Of course Cyrus would take the opportunity to exercise his power over him. He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at her. 'Exactly what would you know about my study habits?'

She rolled her eyes at him. 'The whole school knew about them, Harry. It was no secret that you and Weasley preferred to play chess or fool around instead of studying, and that both of you wouldn't have been in the upper half of the class if Granger hadn't made sure you at least did your homework on time.'

Once again his face became hot. 'I'm not that bad. Actually, I revised hard for my O.W.L.s, and I did a lot of extra work for Defense in our fifth year.'

'Yeah, and that was because it was your favourite class,' she said. 'However, you didn't decide to study Magical Economics with your own free will, so I expect it'll be hard for you to keep on task. I'll try to help you with that, but I'll also give you fair warning: I'm not going to run interference between you and Father, so you'd better do your best right from the start.' She poked him in the chest with a finger. 'Or I'll kick your arse before Father gets to have a go at it.'

What the…! He gaped at the petite girl in front of him. She was all soft and delicate femininity, but something in her expression warned him not to cross her, or she'd subject him to far worse things than anything Cyrus would do to him.

Not that he planned on neglecting his studies. He'd had a lot of time to think about his new situation in the previous weeks, and come to the conclusion that he'd never willingly endanger his grandfather's legacy. He knew so little about his family, and had even less that reminded him of them, so working to become Cyrus' successor and thus also following in his grandfather's footsteps gave him a connection to his family that he'd never had before and it was one that he cherished.

If only he'd known about that sooner, he would've worked harder during his time at Hogwarts and also would've tried to pick up the things Daphne had been educated in outside of the Hogwarts curriculum. He doubted he ever would've thought of becoming an Auror, had he known there was a family business waiting for him. However, Cyrus didn't need to know that.

'Yes, ma'am,' he said, and grinned at her.

Her face softened. 'Good for you.' She closed the door to the study and took his hand. 'That's the end of the tour. I told you, the house is tiny.'

'What, no additional half a dozen bedrooms for our future children?' he asked with a snort as they walked back downstairs. 'I thought your father expects us to continue the family line asap.'

Daphne blushed. 'I guess we'll have either to move into the main house then, or persuade Father to give us access to your grandparent's house. However, since we both agreed that we don't want to have children before we finish our studies, the house is big enough for the time being.'

'Speaking of your father, will your parents expect us to come over today?'

She shook her head. 'Mother, Father and Tori are still at our holiday villa in France. They won't be back for another two weeks.'

Harry raised his eyes heavenwards. Thank Merlin, prayers are sometimes answered, he wouldn't have to deal with his in-laws yet. How was he supposed to interact with Cyrus on a daily basis after what that man had done to him and Daphne? He didn't love her, but as his wife she was now his responsibility, and he'd be damned if he allowed Cyrus to use her as his chess piece any longer.

Even more important: he'd have additional two weeks to get used to living with Daphne. He'd spared no thought before their wedding on what daily life with a girl would entail. He'd had some vague dreams about a life with Ginny, however, after two weeks of marriage he already knew they failed the reality check. Who'd have thought that girls could be that… that omnipresent?

It had started with her scent. He was used to Ginny's flowery scent, however, it hadn't dominated _The Burrow._ Daphne's scent was different, light, yet spicy with a lemony note. It was the first thing he smelled on the pillows when he woke up in the morning, it hung in the air of the bathroom when he went to get ready for the day, and it eventually permeated the wardrobe they shared and where they had put their new clothes for the time of their stay in Paris. Not to mention that he got a whiff of it every time she moved close to him. It wasn't unpleasant, by no means, however, it wasn't the scent he'd grown to love.

Then there were her things. It seemed they had a life of their own, and eventually spread all over their hotel room and intermingled with his belongings. There was her cardigan at the foot of his side of the bed where she'd placed it when they returned to their room after a day out. There were at least three pairs of shoes - why did women need so many shoes, by the way? - lying on the floor of their hotel room, in close proximity to his trainers. There were the fashion magazines she'd bought to read and dropped on his bedside table. Well, of course he'd had a peek inside - after all, he was supposed to find out how the mind of his new wife ticked, wasn't he? And the crossword puzzle had been interesting.

He wouldn't even mention her brushes next to his shaving kit, or her shampoo standing next to his soap in the shower - no, the most nerve-racking thing had to be, well, the things girls wore under their clothes and at night. Oh, he'd got a lot of experience with that stuff during his time on the run, when he'd been alone with Hermione. They'd taken turns with the household chores, and he'd done Hermione's unmentionables and her night things more than once when he had to do the washing.

However, the sensible, plain cotton bras and slips and flannel pyjamas Hermione wore couldn't be compared to the flimsy pieces of silk and laceDaphne preferred, he never would have suspected this, given her outerwear prior to their marriage, and it kept him on his toes. They seemed to be everywhere: she had the annoying, yet exciting habit to leave her lacy bras at the door handle of the bathroom after she'd changed her clothes for the night. He probably had looked as if he had a tomato for a head each morning when he left the bathroom during their honeymoon, and he'd had a hard time not to imagine her in these tiny pieces of clothing every time he looked at her.

And would he ever get used to seeing her in the short _nothings_ she called nightgowns and that barely covered anything? Merlin, had she an idea what she did to him each morning when she got up, stretched, and the shift rode up on her long legs several inches?

No, it wouldn't be a sacrifice at all when they had to become physical, however, how he was supposed to keep calm around her until she'd gotten used to their awkward situation was beyond him.

* * *

The next morning Harry was the first down in the kitchen. They'd spent the previous evening getting their things sorted, and went out for an early dinner to Muggle London, since the larder and the fridge of their new home were still empty, and had bought what they'd need for breakfast at a Tesco on Dean Street on their way back home. They had both been knackered when they returned home and gone to bed early, without talking to Kreacher about his new duties.

He still wasn't in the mood to deal with his house elf, though the poor old thing would be beyond happy when he called him. No matter what Hermione said, house elves needed their masters to be content and happy.

Harry put the kettle on the stove, thank Merlin he'd learned how to operate a magical stove during his time on the run. He opened the cupboard that looked on the outside like a Muggle refrigerator, but was nothing more than a cupboard with permanent cooling charms placed on it, and took out the bacon and eggs.

He whistled a little tune, put the pan on the stove and cracked the first egg open.

Tea, bacon, and eggs had just finished, and the toaster - yet another Muggle looking device that operated on magic - popped out the last slice of toast, when the kitchen door opened and Daphne walked into the room. At the sight of the almost finished meal and the set table her eyes went huge.

'I had no idea you could cook,' she said and sat down.

Harry slid a fried egg on her plate and one on his own, put the pan back on the stove and sat down opposite of her. 'I won't claim that I'm a master cook, however, I know how to prepare breakfast and a few other dishes.'

'Had I known you know your way in a kitchen, I wouldn't have been that standoffish the day you proposed. A man who can cook is definitely a good bargain.' Daphne smirked at him and took a bite of her eggs and bacon. 'Mmmmh, that's good.'

He snorted. 'You're almost as bad as Ron when it comes to food.'

She put down her fork and gave him a mildly offended look. 'I prefer to think that I have better table manners.'

'Oh, you have, but that's not difficult,' Harry said and hid his broad grin behind his teacup. It was so easy to get a rise out of her, not to mention she looked cute when she pouted and mock-glared at him, just like right now. He'd come to enjoy the easy banter they'd established between them.

A peck on the window pane prevented her from the retort that was without any doubt on the tip of her tongue. He got up and let the post owl in. It carried a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ , and he fished in the pocket of his jeans for some loose coins to drop the needed five Knuts in the small pouch attached to the owl's leg. The owl hooted and flew off. Harry closed the window, picked up the newspaper and returned to the breakfast table.

'I had no idea you subscribed to the _Prophet,_ ' he said, and gave the newspaper to Daphne.

She put down her teacup and took the paper from him. 'It's always good to know what venom Skeeter is spreading,' she said, unfolded the paper and handed him back the sports section.

He took it with a small chuckle. 'Too right.' However, the laughter got stuck in his throat when he unfolded the sports section and his eyes fell on the headline.

 _ **US CLUB STRIKES DEAL WITH BRITISH UP-AND-COMING CHASER TALENT**_

Below that was a huge photograph of a smiling Ginny beside the manager and owner of the Taos Tornados as she signed the contract.

His fingers became numb, and he grabbed the newspaper even harder so it wouldn't fall to the ground and alert Daphne. He read the article, and had to read it for a second time, because his brain refused to process the words his eyes saw.

At last, the meaning of the words sunk in. Ginny was moving to the USA - no, she already was there. So, that's what he'd done to her. He'd broken her heart for a second time, and this time her hurt was so bad she'd fled the country. There was no way Ginny would've ever left her family, if he hadn't shattered her heart for a second time.

His breakfast turned into a cold hard stone in his stomach, and he had to suppress a groan. Merlin, how could he ever look the Weasleys into the eyes again? Ginny was the apple of their eyes, and he had driven her away from her family.

The newspaper slipped out of his nerveless fingers and slid to the floor.

'Harry?' Daphne looked at him from behind her part of the newspaper. Something on his face must have given him away, for her face fell. She turned her head to where the sports section had fallen. The headline and Ginny's photograph were impossible to miss.

Daphne's face turned ashen.

Harry's chest tightened. Merlin, he was such a cad. He'd hurt Ginny beyond belief, and now he'd also hurt Daphne. She'd gone out of her way to help him through their awkward situation. Even worse, he in all likelihood owed his life to her, not only because she agreed to marry him, but also because she kept him anchored to this life while he was under the treatment. While he didn't think he could love her, he at least owed it to her to treat her decently and never let her realise that he still wasn't over Ginny. Well, he'd well and truly screwed that pooch, hadn't he?

The tightness in his chest intensified. He took a laboured breath. This was too much, he had to get out of here…

'Harry?' Daphne's voice sounded alarmed.

He looked at her. 'I'm sorry, Daphne, I … I can't -'

He couldn't finish the sentence. With a last pleading look at his wife he Apparated away.

 _t.b.c._

* _Galettes_ are _crêpes_ made of buckwheat flour and a speciality from Brittany. Filled with ham, cheese and egg they are a common lunch dish, and not a breakfast dish, as many of you might think. You'll find _crêperies_ that serve _galettes_ everywhere in France, not only in Brittany. I highly recommend them, they are a yummy alternative to lunch at a bistro, especially if you're travelling on a small budget.


	37. Chapter 34

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** A huge thank you to my wonderful editor Shygui.

Chapters **34** and **35,** 22/04/18

 **34**

Harry appeared in the garden of the square at Grimmauld Place and looked around. The square was deserted, however, blaring tvs could be heard from a couple of open windows of the houses surrounding the dilapidated place. He cast another look around, just to be sure, and stepped out of the overgrown shrubbery. Number twelve materialised in front of him as if out of thin air.

Thank Merlin, the house was still standing. He'd left _The Coach House_ without a plan in mind, he only knew he had to get away from a situation that threatened to overwhelm him, and had Apparated to the first place he thought of - Grimmauld Place, Merlin only knew why.

He crossed the road in a few, long strides, hurried up the steps to the door, and opened it with a tap of his wand.

As soon as the massive oak door closed behind him, he took a look around and let out a low whistle. He'd expected the house to be vandalised by the Death Eaters after Hermione had accidently taken Yaxley into the sphere of the Fidelius Charm with her after their foray into the Ministry. The Death Eaters didn't disappoint him: they'd done a bang-up job.

The portrait of Walburga Black was reduced to scraps of scorched canvas sticking to the wall here and there and a few splinters of blackened wood from the frame lying at the base of the wall where the portrait once hung. Well, he wouldn't complain about that. He also wouldn't complain that the curse Moody had put up to keep Snape out had been broken. All that remained was a pile of ashes in the middle of the hall, next to the scorched remains of the umbrella stand made out of a Troll leg. Good riddance to that, too.

In fact, the Death Eaters had reduced everything that had once celebrated the proud Pureblood heritage of the Blacks to rubble. They'd also destroyed the vermin that infested the house, he noticed during a quick tour through the house. Well, that was a welcomed side effect. All he had to do was to clear the rubble away and remodel everything. A mirthless laughter shook him. Should he write a thank-you note to the Death Eaters in Azkaban?

Well, before he did anything about that, he needed to tear down the old Fidelius Charm and put up a new one. Merlin knew who was included to the Fidelius Charm - probably every Death Eater and their grandmother. He didn't need any uninvited visitors.

'Kreacher,' he called.

 _Plop!_

The ancient house elf appeared next to him, and at once threw his arms around Harry's legs. 'Master Harry called Kreacher. Kreacher is so happy!'

Harry winced; Kreacher's bullfrog voice hadn't changed one iota during the war. He patted the head of the old elf who still clung to his legs and looked up at him, an expression of pure adoration on his wrinkled face.

'Kreacher, please ask Professor Flitwick if he can spare some time to come here and show me how to take down an old Fidelius Charm and cast a new one.'

'Kreacher will do,' the old house elf said, and Apparated away.

Harry sat down on the lowest steps of the broken staircase and buried his head in his hands. The state of Sirius' house had distracted him for a short time from his problems, however, they came crashing back on him as soon as he was alone.

How was he supposed to go on from here? He couldn't stay away from Daphne for an indefinite period, of that much he was sure. People would start talking if one of them turned up alone anywhere this early in their marriage, and Skeeter would have a field day with that. The last thing he wanted was dragging his and Daphne's problems into the open. He could do without the attention, and Daphne didn't deserve it.

However, ever since Healer Payne sprung the devastating diagnosis upon him, all he'd done was try to survive. He'd entered in his marriage with Daphne because he saw no other way out, but he hadn't dared to give much thought about what that might mean for his life from then on. After their wedding, he and Daphne had been scooped up twenty-four/seven for two weeks, and he just went with the flow, thankful that they seemed to slip into their new life together without any major fights or hardship.

Nevertheless, he needed some alone time. He needed to yank Ginny out of his heart once and for all - if that was even possible? He had to try, he owed it to Daphne and himself, if they ever wanted to have a chance of at least a friendly and content marriage.

Would Daphne be understanding of this?

 _Plop!_

Harry startled, he'd forgot about Kreacher over his musings about his situation.

'Professor Flitwick will have time for Master Harry tomorrow at eleven,' Kreacher said.

'Thank you, Kreacher. Please, go to _The Coach House_ from here and tell your mistress where I am, and that I need some time alone, but will return as soon as I can. Also, I want you to stay with your new mistress and help her instead of returning to Hogwarts. Is that alright with you?'

One look at his house elf confirmed he didn't need to ask the latter question. Kreacher bobbed up and down on the balls of his feet in a way he'd only previously associated with Dobby.

'Kreacher will love to serve new mistress!' The next second, the house elf Apparated away.

Harry chuckled. 'Well, at least one of us is happy about this situation,' he said to himself. He got up from the steps and took a look around. Where to begin to clean up this mess? He shrugged, one place was as good as the other, given the state the house was in. He slipped his wand into his hand and Vanished the rubble right in front of him. Foot by foot and yard by yard he worked his way through the hall, until he had Vanished all the rubble and had removed the wall plaster.

It was already late in the afternoon when he stopped, sweating, tired and with a somehow light headed feeling because he'd missed lunch. He called Kreacher, ordered him to bring him an overnight bag, and then made his way out of the house in search of a place to stay for the night.

He rented a room at the Islington Inn on Essex Street, took a shower, dragged himself out to grab a bite to eat, and fell asleep from sheer exhaustion as soon as he went to bed rather early that night. Early the next morning he was back at Grimmauld Place, continuing with the removal of the rubble and detritus from the house.

Professor Flitwick arrived on time. Harry heaved a big sigh when the old Fidelius Charm was removed and the tiny professor showed him how to cast a new one, with Harry being the Secret Keeper. The Professor had also shown him how to access the other wards on the house and how to alter their setting, allowing him a control over who could access the property even if they knew the secret. He resumed his work, and again fell into his bed at his hotel room dead tired once more.

Over the next couple of days he established a routine. He'd get up early, have breakfast at the hotel, go to Grimmauld Place, clean one room, grab some grub at a pub near the house for lunch, clean the next room in the afternoon, have dinner at another pub on his way back to the hotel and fall into bed dead tired each night. The monotonous work somehow calmed his nerves, and gave him time to think about everything that had been getting to him. The cleaning progressed, and so did his train of thoughts, until a picture began to form.

Almost two weeks later, Harry pointed his wand at the last pile of rubble in the conservatory he had discovered on top of the flat roof of the house. With a flick of his wand, the rubble was gone.

His shoulders sagged, and he took a deep breath. Lost in his thoughts, he walked down the staircase and out of the house. For a last time, he locked the door with his wand. His work was done; the house was clean of the devastation the Death Eaters had left in their wake. The house was ready for a new start.

And so was he. He had come to a decision, and he had no excuse to stay away from his wife any longer.

The only sticking point would be whether or not Daphne agreed with his decision.

He took another deep breath and Apparated away.

 _t.b.c._


	38. Chapter 35

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Thank you, Shygui, for editing this chapter. You rock!

Chapter **34** and **35** , 22/04/18

 **35**

Daphne stared at the spot where her husband had just Apparated away from.

Why had he done this? They'd got along so well in the week since the end of his treatment. Harry seemed to have accepted their situation, if he felt any resentment against her because of Father's deeds, he'd not once let on. In fact, he seemed to make a genuine effort to become friends and get to know her.

For one week she had managed to delude herself that their marriage might work against all odds.

Her gaze fell to the newspaper on the ground. Ginny's smile as she signed the contract with her new club over and over again mocked her. She propped her elbows on the table and covered her face with her hands. She'd been so naïve, she should've known that the deep feelings he had for the Weaselette wouldn't vanish overnight. He'd been nice enough not to let her see how much he missed the girl during their so-called honeymoon, but when her photograph was sprung on him this unexpectedly, it was too much for him, and his façade had cracked.

She pulled her hands off her face and looked down at the newspaper once again. 'You were right,' she said to the smiling girl in the photograph. 'He still isn't over you, and considering how faithful he is to those he loves, he'll probably never get over you. While I don't think that you deserve him, it's his choice to make. Although it would solve one of my problems, I won't go so far as to wish that you'd fall from your broom and break your neck in your first match. On the contrary, I wish you a long and prosperous career in the USA so you'll have no reason ever to come back.'

She slipped her wand out of the holster on her arm and Vanished the newspaper on the ground. It didn't make her feel better, but at least she didn't have to look at the Weaselette any longer.

The remains of the breakfast Harry had prepared still were on the table. She looked at her half emptied plate, and her stomach squirmed. With another flick of her wand she Vanished the cold food on her and Harry's plates, Levitated the empty plates to the sink, and got up and walked to the sink. She'd better get the dishes done right now, or -

 _Plop!_

She whirled around. In front of her stood an ancient looking house elf and beamed at her with bright eyes.

'Master sent Kreacher to serve Mistress. What can Kreacher do for Mistress?' the small creature said in a bullfrog voice.

Daphne startled, and her heart beat a drumroll. This was Harry's elf, she now recognised him from her wedding day when he'd brought her the flowers. Kreacher had said Harry sent him… that meant -

'Kreacher, where's your master?'

'Master tell Kreacher to tell Mistress that he is in Master's house. Master say he need time alone and he will return soon. He tell Kreacher to serve Mistress.'

An avalanche rolled off her chest, and she heaved a deep breath. Harry was safe and he actually planned on returning. That was more than she'd hoped for as she saw the forlorn look in his eyes when he Apparated away. It was understandable that he wanted some alone time. If anything, she probably should be surprised he didn't crack sooner, after everything he went through since… Well, to be honest since Halloween eighty-one.

Harry didn't show the wounds he'd suffered, that much she'd learned while she sat beside his bed and listened to his hallucinations. He buried them deep inside of him, and never allowed them to come back to the surface, unless it was under supreme duress. Of course, that didn't make the hurt go away. It had accumulated in the depths of Harry's soul, pestering him from there like a permanent mental toothache, and together with Voldemort's soul piece in his scar that influenced Harry's feelings as the monster grew stronger had made for a very irritable, sometimes even irrational young man.

Harry had become calmer ever since he got rid of Voldemort's soul piece inside of him, and the potion had forced him to face his past and deal with his hurt. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been that serene about their situation during the last week, or that considerate of her feelings. Fifth year Harry, for example, would've hexed her into the next millennium five minutes after their wedding.

She snorted.

'What can Kreacher do for Mistress?'

The bullfrog voice of Harry's house elf yanked her out of her thoughts, and she looked down at the small creature in front of her. She'd grown up with house elves and knew they drew their magical strength from the bond to their masters. Serving their masters strengthened the bond. From the little Harry had told her about Kreacher yesterday evening, she also knew the poor thing had to live without that magical sustenance for most of the time ever since Walburga Black died. It showed in Kreacher's withered looks. Well, while Harry was still stubborn and didn't want her help, she at least could help his house elf.

'Please, clean the kitchen, Kreacher, and after that tidy up the bedroom and the bathroom. There's also a lot of laundry you need to take care of.'

Kreacher's face brightened. 'Kreacher will do!' He clicked his fingers; the next moment the sink filled with steaming hot water, and Kreacher hummed a happy little tune as he collected the pan and spatula.

Daphne turned around and left the kitchen, a smile on her face. At least one member of their little family was happy. She walked out of the house and to the garden shed; she'd better keep herself occupied for the time that Harry needed to think, or else she'd become crazy waiting for him.

Gardening had always been one of her favourite pastimes, much to Mother's dismay. She gathered her tools, but spurned the gloves. Mother would have kittens if she saw that. Mother couldn't understand she needed to feel the earth under her fingers, and thus she never bothered with gardening gloves. Of course that showed on her hands, and no amount of beauty products, magical or Muggle, was able to turn them into the white, unblemished hands of a Pureblood lady Mother so wanted her to have.

Five minutes later she knelt in the kitchen garden and took care of the vegetable beds. Thank Merlin it was August, the month everything needed to be harvested, and Marty and his son Monty, the two house elves who took care of the vast gardens of _The Rectory,_ were thankful for every additional pair of hands. She'd have more than enough work to keep her from wanting to think about or - Morgana save her - go after Harry.

While the two elves worked in the orchard, Daphne took care of the vegetable garden. They'd bring the harvest into the kitchen, where Matty and Mipsy, assisted by Kreacher, worked from dusk till dawn to preserve the many fruits and vegetables the garden provided. It was a satisfying work, and it helped to keep her thoughts off Harry, well, at least most of the time. In the evening, she was too tired to care about little more than a shower and a bite to eat, and was fast asleep the moment she put her head on her pillow.

One week passed in this way, and she had yet to freak out about Harry's absence. He'd asked her for some space, and she would give it to him. At least, she ruefully conceded to herself, she did better in the understanding-wife-department than she thought she ever would.

However, when the second week began and almost came to a close without any sign of Harry, her self restraint weakened with each passing day. What was taking him so long? While she was understanding of his need for some space, he was now pushing his luck. A heads up that he was alright would've been nice and surely the least she could expect.

She bit her lips, a frown on her face, while she put her gardening tools away late in the afternoon after she had prepared the last vegetable bed for the new seeds that would go in for the next year. If only Tori were here; she had a good head on her shoulders, and her advice was always spot on. Well, Tori would return in a couple of days. So would Father. She wasn't looking forward to having to explain to him that she somehow had lost her new husband two weeks after the wedding.

Damn it, where was Harry? He knew that Father was going to return any day now, and that they'd both be in a right fix if Harry wasn't at _The Rectory_ then. Should she ask Kreacher to take her to him? However, how would he react if she invaded his privacy?

She closed the door to the garden shed and walked to the gates of the house.

 _Crack!_

At the sound of an Apparition her heart began to hammer in her breast. The ward bell hadn't chimed, which meant it had to be one of four people: Father, Mother, Tori - or Harry.

She almost ran the last twenty yards to the circular place in front of the house.

He stood with his back to her and just put his hand on the handle of the gate to get admittance to the house.

'Harry!'

At the sound of her voice he turned around. Her eyes swept over him: how had he fared during these last two weeks? He didn't seem to have lost any weight, and his skin looked healthy, without any signs of sleep deprivation. Though having said that, his looks couldn't be trusted, he had already proven his aptitude with Glamour Charms and Illusion Charms were above average. She took another, closer look.

No, this was the genuine article, thank Merlin. She let out a huge breath.

Harry watched her approaching him, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, and with rounded shoulders and shuffling feet.

So he had a guilty conscience about how he treated her? Good! She raised her chin.

'Nice you decided to return home, Potter.' Damn, that came out sharper than she intended. She blew a strand of her hair out of her face. He deserved it, didn't he? He'd left her behind and hadn't given a peep for almost two weeks. He should've known she would worry. On top of that she was hot, sweaty and grubby after a long day of work in the garden, not to mention hungry and thirsty. She had a right to be irritable, didn't she?

Harry's face flushed a deep shade of red. He pulled his hands out of the pockets of his jeans, made a step towards her, and raised his arms.

Daphne's eyes widened. Was he going to hug her?

No, he stopped one step apart from her and put his hands on her upper arms.

'I'm sorry, Daphne. I shouldn't have run away like that. When I saw that article...' He trailed off and bit his lips, his cheeks still tinted.

She deflated at his obvious discomfort. It was a still a tad much to expect he'd discuss his feelings about the news of his girlfriend having left the country with her, wasn't it? Did he blame himself for the actions of the Weaselette? Most likely; he had the irritating habit of taking the blame for every piece of dragon dung that happened in his life, this was obvious as she sat there listening to his hallucinations. Though it was doubtful he had anything to do with the Weaselette's decision, he wouldn't be able to see that; no, when it came to the redhead he was even blinder than usual.

She looked in the emerald green eyes she loved so much; they were dark and troubled. Ice spread in her chest. He wasn't over the Weaselette yet. Would he ever be? Probably not. Forcing him to live with her must be hell on earth for him.

For one week out of four she had lived the impossible dream of being Harry's wife. She should've known this was never meant to be. He had his health back, a considerable amount of gold in his vault, and was now in the position to fend for himself, even if they'd provoke Father's wrath with what she was going to do. She was in the position to ease his pain, and if she loved him as much as she thought she did, she had to let him go, set him free. Her eyes stung with sudden tears, but she blinked them away. He must never know how hard this was on her.

She opened her mouth. 'We have to talk, Harry.'

He nodded and looked as if he was about to reply, however, the chiming of the ward bell, announcing the arrival of a friend of the family, interrupted him.

 _Crack!_

They both turned around to face the Apparition Point. Two people materialised out of thin air.

Daphne's heart sank into the deepest pit of her stomach. Out of everyone in this magically damned world, why did Granger and the Weasel have to chose this moment for their welcome-back visit to Harry?

 _t.b.c._


	39. Chapter 36

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Thank you to Shygui for editing this chapter, not only once, but multiple times until he was satisfied. You are the best!

Chapter **36** , 26/04/18

One rather short chapter only this time, but more than the promised 3k words. Sunday there will be more, I promise.

 **36**

No, this couldn't be happening, why did Ron and Hermione have to choose this moment for a visit? Daphne and he needed to talk, he was past overdue to explain his actions to her, especially if her annoyed welcome had been anything to go by.

However, she'd back pedalled after that, said they needed to talk. He couldn't agree more.

Harry cast a look at his wife. How did she take Ron and Hermione's appearance? Her face was stony, like on the day they'd signed their wedding agreement. Even though they'd only spent a short time together, he already knew her well enough to suspect that this expression hid high agitation on her part.

He squeezed her upper arms in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture and let go. 'We'll talk later,' he said in a low voice, and walked toward the Apparition Point to greet his friends.

'Harry!' Hermione cried, and shot towards him like a cannonball. The next moment she grabbed him in a bone crushing hug, and his sight was obscured by masses of bushy, brown hair.

A heavy hand fell on his shoulder. 'Harry, mate, good to see you,' Ron said and joined the hug.

Harry emerged from the group hug a few moments later, a huge smile on his face. 'Why are you guys already back in England? I didn't count on your return before the end of this month.' He looked from Hermione to Ron. They both were tanned and looked relaxed and happy. Hermione had gained the weight she'd lost during the long months on the run, and the dark circles around her eyes that had still been prominent when she left at the end of May were gone.

'Well, it was easier to find my parents and restore their memories as we'd thought before,' Hermione said, and gave him another hug. 'After that, my parents decided they wanted to stay in Australia, so we had a long, nice family time with them until -'

'- until we got your letter that you're going to marry Daphne Greengrass, but without any explanation about why.' Ron finished Hermione's sentence.

Harry cast a look at his best male friend.

Ron scowled, but his ears had a normal shade.

Harry let out a breath. So, Ron wasn't mad, at least not yet.

'It took us some time to get an International Portkey back to England.' Hermione picked up the tale where Ron had left. 'We arrived yesterday, and had a long talk with Mr Weasley and Bill about what had happened.'

Ron gave Harry another slap on the shoulder. 'Yeah; they managed to clean up a few … misconceptions I might have had about why you left Ginny for a second time and married a Slytherin in that hurried fashion.' A slight tinge of pink rose into his cheeks, and the corners of Hermione's mouth twitched.

Merlin bless Mr Weasley and Bill. It seemed they'd stepped in on his and Daphne's behalf and managed to prevent Ron from working himself in a frenzy about his surprise marriage.

He turned around, linked arms with his friends, and led Ron and Hermione over to where Daphne still stood in front of the gate to the house. She looked at them, a smile plastered on her face, though it didn't reach her eyes.

'Hermione, Ron, I don't think you have formerly met Daphne yet. Daphne, these are my oldest and closest friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley.'

He held his breath. There weren't many people as different as his two best friends and his wife. How would they react to each other? How much did Ron and Hermione know about the circumstances of his marriage? Even more important, would they hold Cyrus' actions against his daughter?

'There's no need for an introduction, Harry. Gr… Daphne and I have had Runes and Arithmancy together since third year,' Hermione said. She slipped her arm out of his, and the next second Daphne was engulfed in one of Hermione's trademark hugs. She murmured something in Daphne's ear he couldn't understand.

Daphne emerged from Hermione's hug with rather bright eyes and a flushed face. 'Thank you, Hermione,' she said. Her voice sounded choked.

Ron stepped forward. He took Daphne's hand and executed a perfect bow over it. 'My congratulations on your marriage, Daphne.' He kissed Daphne's hand, and then gave her a kiss on the cheek, and also said something to Daphne that Harry again couldn't hear or understand.

Daphne blushed even more. 'Thank you, Ron.'

Harry blinked. Now, who would've thought that? He let out a deep breath. He wouldn't complain that his best friends seemed to have decided to be sensible about his marriage and not to create a scene, though there was no doubt they'd have a lot to say on that matter as soon as they were alone.

'Let's get inside and ask Kreacher to bring us a butterbeer,' he said. 'I don't know about you, but I've worked hard all day long, and I'm parched.'

He opened the gate for his wife and his friends. 'We live in the old coach house,' he said. 'The entrance is left of the main house.'

Ron and Hermione took in their surroundings with big eyes: the well maintained gravelled path, the rows of cypresses that separated the path from the patios behind them, and the colourful flower beds that surrounded the patios. Harry saw how they exchanged a surreptitious glance. He didn't blame them, the opulence of the Greengrass estate had overwhelmed him as well when he saw it for the first time. It was quite the contrast to _The Burrow._

'So, you have your own house?' Hermione asked as they walked across the patio to the entrance of _The Coach House._

'Yes, thank Merlin,' Harry said, and Daphne nodded.

' _The Coach House_ is traditionally used as the dowager house of my family, or for older, unmarried relatives. Father agreed that Harry and I can live here for the time being.' She evaded Harry's gaze. As soon as they were inside of the house, she excused herself. 'I need to get changed, or I'll drag dirt into the living room,' she said, and pointed at her earth-stained clothes. 'The house elves are still busy preserving the fruits, and don't need the additional work.' She gave them a small wave with her hand and climbed up the stairs.

Harry opened the door to the living room and ushered his friends in. 'Have a seat.' He gestured towards the sumptuous chairs in front of the fireplace.

Ron and Hermione sat down side by side on the loveseat, and looked around. Ron let out a low whistle. 'This is quite the difference to Grimmauld Place or the tent, mate.'

Harry chuckled. 'Tell me about that.' He sat down in a chair opposite of his friends. 'Especially right now. I've spent the last two weeks at Grimmauld Place and cleared away the rubble the Death Eaters left behind.'

Hermione gasped, and her hand flew to her mouth. 'They've vandalised the house after we left?'

'Oh yeah,' Harry said. He leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs. 'They did a damned thorough job. There was nothing left except a huge heap of rubble. Even Mrs Black's portrait was reduced to shreds.'

'Not a big loss, if you ask me,' Ron said and put his arm around Hermione's shoulders.

Harry laughed and nodded to that.

Hermione, however, froze. 'What about the library?' she asked in a shaky voice.

The corners of Harry's mouth twitched. Trust Hermione to be concerned about mouldering books, one more horrible than the other. He shook his head. 'I'm sorry, Hermione, they are all gone.'

Hermione's eyes seemed to bulge out of her head. 'Gone?'

'Yeah; Most of them had been burnt or torn apart so I Vanished what was left of them, together with the other rubble.'

She stared at him, mouth agape.

Ron pulled her closer towards him with one arm and grinned at Harry. 'I think you broke her, mate.'

Both young men broke out into laughter.

Their laughter brought Hermione back to her senses. She gave Ron a playful slap and sat upright. 'Quit being complete prats. Besides that, we haven't come here today to talk about the renovation of Grimmauld Place.'

Harry sobered. He should've known his best friends had questions about his surprise marriage and wanted answers.

Hermione cast a look towards the door. 'Will Daphne join us?'

'I doubt it,' Harry said. He and Daphne were still dancing around each other after he'd left that sudden two weeks ago, she wouldn't want his friends to see that; it was against their agreement to keep things between themselves.

'Good,' Hermione said. She drew a deep breath through her nose. 'Will you please set up a Privacy Ward, Harry, if that's possible?'

Harry's heart plummeted into the deepest pit of his stomach. Now the time to justify himself had come. Would his best friends be understanding of his predicament? Or would his marriage cause a serious rift in their friendship? He slipped out his wand and cast 'Muffliato' around them. 'Look -'

Ron held up his hand, palm outwards. 'There's no need to justify yourself, mate. Dad and Bill told us what was at stake, and they also told us about the way Cyrus Greengrass blackmailed you. We won't hold that against you. We also won't hold it against Gr… Daphne. She's from an old Pureblood family, and the children of these families, especially the girls, hardly ever have a say in whom they are going to marry.' A reluctant grin spread across his freckled face. 'On the contrary, we probably ought to be thankful to her that she's willing to put up with a git like you and saved your scrawny arse.'

Hermione elbowed him in the side. 'Language, Ronald!' Her eyes swept over Harry. 'Although I have to say you're not at all scrawny anymore, Harry. Are you alright again? And what happened to your glasses? Did the treatment also take care of your bad eyesight?'

Harry smiled, that barrage of questions was so typical Hermione. 'Yes; I've Vanished my glasses, and yes.' He turned to Ron while Hermione puzzled out his answer. 'Who are you, and what have you done with Ron Weasley?'

Ron laughed and ran a hand through his hair. The tips of his earlobes pinked. 'It's me, mate, and no worries, I can see why you're amazed; I never was the most grown up when it came to things that happened to you and around you during all these years. However, I've learned my lesson when I left you and Hermione during the time on the run. I swore to myself never, ever again to turn my back on you. Of course it helped that dad and Bill explained what happened to you.' His face darkened. 'And there I thought everything would be alright after you got rid of that soul piece of Voldemort.'

A lump formed in Harry's throat. 'Thank you, Ron, I really appreciate this.'

Hermione reached over and squeezed his hand. There was a suspicious brightness in her eyes. 'You know we'll always have your back, Harry.'

Silence descended on the room. The three friends looked at each other, not sure how to go on. Not surprising, it was Hermione who found the obvious solution. 'Why don't you tell us what happened since we left _The Burrow_ from your point of view, Harry?'

Harry straightened in his seat. 'Yeah, I suppose you want to hear the whole story.' He took a deep breath. 'Well, it all started with that owl I got from Cyrus Greengrass a couple of days after you'd left for Australia…'

He talked and talked, and Hermione and Ron listened to him. Sometimes they'd exchange a look and pass a silent message between them he didn't understand - not anymore. He looked at their entwined hands. They'd not only grown close during their time in Australia, they'd also grown apart from him. Oh, they were still his closest friends, there was no doubt about it. However, they had developed a relationship apart from the friendship the three of them shared; he had to get used to that. He clenched his teeth. He was happy for them, they deserved only the best. But it hurt, too. Would he ever have that kind of intimacy with Daphne?

They not once interrupted his talk; that had to be a first. When he finished his story, Ron and Hermione exchanged another silent message. Hermione gave Ron a kiss on the cheek and stood up. 'I think I've seen Daphne in the garden. Why don't you two enjoy some male bonding time while I have some girl talk with her?' She walked to the glass door and slipped out into the garden.

Harry stared after her. What, why wasn't she giving him the third degree about his feelings?

'How are you holding up, mate?'

He jerked his head around. He'd have expected that question from Hermione, but never from Ron.

Ron raised his hand in a placating gesture. 'Easy there, mate. You don't have to answer if you don't want to. However, we both know how Hermione is, and that she'll make you uncomfortable with her nagging questions, so we agreed that I should do the talking.'

Harry shook his head. 'Things really have changed a lot between you guys.'

A broad smile appeared on Ron's face. 'Yeah, it's brilliant.'

Harry made a face at that. 'You know, I'm happy for you two, but please, don't rub it in, will you? At the moment, I'm a trifle sensitive in that regard.'

Ron's face sobered. 'I imagine.' He paused. 'However, there's something I want you to know, mate.'

'That is?'

'I know you're heartbroken about my sister, Harry. You'll get over it, and soon, I'd say. In hindsight, I can tell you that you and Ginny never had what Hermione and I have.'

Harry's head jerked back. 'How would you know?'

Ron gave him a knowing glance. 'You had, what, two, three weeks together during our sixth year? I'd be surprised if you did anything else than snogging and find a way how to get under her shirt, Potter.'

The heat crept in Harry's cheeks, and he didn't dare look at his friend. Of course, Ron was spot on.

'Hermione told me how you obsessed over Ginny's dot on the Marauder's Map. Well, so you must know what happened to her while you were on the run.'

Harry whipped his head around. 'How do you know about that?'

Ron let out a mirthless laugh. 'Hermione and I happened to meet Lavender in Cairns. Turned out that her folks fled to Australia during the war, and she joined them after she had recuperated from the wounds she suffered during the Battle. You know Lavender; she brought us up to speed about all the juicy gossip.' He leaned forward and put his elbows on his thighs. 'The point is, have you and Ginny talked once about her time at Hogwarts after the end of the war? Have you and Ginny talked once about what happened between you and Voldemort in the forest? Have you and Ginny talked once about anything beside Quidditch? Have you ever talked about how you two envision your future life?'

Harry lowered his gaze. Of course not, he'd been so happy everything was over, and she'd been so devastated about Fred's death that he didn't want to bring up additional sad memories. And she was still so young and not ready to talk about a future together -.

A hand on his knee interrupted his musings. He looked up, right into Ron's eyes. There was a lot of understanding in them, just like in Bill's eyes on his wedding day.

'You don't have to tell me, mate. I've watched you and my sister together and know for a fact that your relationship didn't progress one bit after the war. You never made it beyond the snogging stage.' Ron gave him another pat on the knee and straightened. 'That's why I know that your relationship with my sister wouldn't last. If someone's going to become a serious partner, you talk, mate. You never talked to Ginny. You came to Hermione and me with everything that bothered you, but you never turned to Ginny.'

Harry opened his mouth and closed it again. Damn, Ron was right. Ginny was fun; he'd loved to fool around with her, and he never wanted to spoil that fun by bringing up the many ugly things being Harry Potter entailed. He hadn't told her about his day at Gringotts, either.

Ron gave him an indulgent smile. 'What about Daphne?' he asked in a soft voice. 'Do you talk to her?'

'Well, we're bound to, or this whole marriage would be an even bigger disaster than it already is.' Harry rubbed his eyes with the balls of his hands, lowered them, and looked at his friend. 'I told you she acted as my anchor while I was under the potion. However, I haven't told you yet that during that time she found out about everything bad that ever happened to me in my life.'

'Bugger!'

Harry let out a harsh laugh. 'Yeah, you can say that again. Well, because of that I was forced to talk to her afterwards. I needed to find out her intentions.'

'I hope you made her take an Unbreakable Vow, mate.'

He shook his head. 'It wasn't necessary. I'm sure Daphne never will betray me.' He still had no idea what Cyrus had used against her to make her agree to his despicable plan, however, ever since their first talk on the balcony of their hotel room in Paris he suspected she might have feelings for him. She'd been so agitated when he'd accused her of using her knowledge for blackmailing him into submission.

'So, you've decided to trust her? A trifle soon for my liking, but given your circumstances, I'd say good for you, mate,' Ron said.

Again, Harry shook his head. 'I have no idea if that's due to Hermione's influence, but you've grown up, mate. You sound more like Bill than like yourself.'

'I have you to know I have a bigger emotional range than of a teaspoon,' Ron said. 'Too bad I never chose to show it.'

They broke out into laughter.

'Those were the days,' Ron said, a reminiscent smile on his face.

'Yeah, the days Voldemort still was after me,' Harry replied. 'Sorry, Ron, but I prefer how things are today, my not-so-willing marriage included.' Again, he rubbed his eyes. 'However, right now I have to find a way how to clean up the mess I've created between Daphne and me when I saw the article about Ginny in _The Daily Prophet.'_

Ron heaved a big sigh. 'What have you done this time?'

Harry gave him a sheepish grin. 'I Apparated away and stayed at Grimmauld Place for more than a week until I had come to grips about my feelings about Ginny.'

'Typical for you, but I guess Daphne wasn't impressed.' Ron shook his head and got to his feet. 'You'd better talk to her, soon.' He gave Harry a sharp glance. 'And you'd better get over my sister. She wasn't right for you, and we both know it, as much as it pains me to say it.'

Harry returned his glance fair and square. 'I already have, Ron. I've decided to move on and make the best out of my marriage to Daphne.'

A smile crept over Ron's face, and he put his hand on Harry's shoulder. 'I'm happy to hear that, mate. However, it's not me who needs to hear that. Go, and talk to your wife, Harry.'

 _t.b.c._


	40. Chapter 37

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** I can't say it often enough, thank you to my beta, Shygui, who did another fantastic job with editing this chapter.

Chapter **37** and **38** , 29/04/18

* * *

 **37**

The bower in the middle of the kitchen garden was just the place to hide away. Over the years, hornbeams planted in a circle had formed a cupola, and their thick foliage provided pleasant cool shade. Daphne sat down on the bench in the middle of the bower. The dim, mysterious light was a balm to her frenzied nerves, and she let out a long breath.

She slipped out of her shoes, propped her legs up on the seat of the bench, pulled a Muggle notepad and biro out of the pocket of her red-flowered summer dress, enlarged them and put them on her thighs for better writing. She needed a plan for when she and Harry would inevitably split up.

First thing was to make sure she'd have enough money to pay for five years of education at the magical campus of Canterbury University and her living during that time. She pulled her latest vault statement out of the pocket of her dress, read the number at the bottom and sighed. Even without the dent her shopping spree in Paris had made into her gold, the remaining gold in her vault was just enough to pay the university tuition. It was less than unlikely Father would give her access to the income of the Greengrass heir any longer if she divorced Harry, so she somehow had to get the money to see her through the next five years until she had finished her education.

Although she didn't like it, she had to talk to Harry about money. The yearly sum Father had granted him out of the income of the Potter estate was more than enough to see ten students through five years of university, tuition included. He could lend her the money she needed without problems, even though Father would likely cut him off his money, too, if Harry agreed to her suggestion.

She jotted _talk to Harry about loan_ on her notepad.

What next? There was no way she'd move back into her parents house. Harry was lucky enough to have a house of his own, but she was not that fortunate.

 _Find a place to stay_ was the next item on her list.

'I hope I'm not disturbing you,' a female voice interrupted her thoughts.

She looked up. The entrance of the bower was darkened by the silhouette of a girl, black against the bright light of the August afternoon. However, the bushy haired halo standing up around her head was a dead give away.

Daphne forced a smile on her face, closed her notepad and put her feet on the ground. 'Oh, hello Gr… Hermione. I didn't hear you coming.'

Hermione came closer and sat down beside her. 'Your parent's estate is beautiful.'

'Thank you,' Daphne said. What was she supposed to talk about with Gr… Hermione?

'I wanted to thank you once again for saving Harry,' Hermione said.

'It was nothing.'

Hermione smiled. 'I wouldn't call it nothing to marry someone to make sure he has the money for an expensive treatment. But that's not everything you did for Harry, is it?' She bit her lower lip with her teeth and gave her a side glance. 'George and Bill told us about the potion Harry took, and that you acted as his anchor.'

Hermione fiddled with the hem of her shirt, 'Well, I did some quick research this morning. The anchor has to be someone with a deep emotional bond to the patient. Otherwise, the patient will likely die, or so my information tells me. It said the patients magic is in such flux that without an anchor to dampen the effect, the patient's body is overwhelmed and their cells literally breakdown, especially when the body is significantly damaged with dark magic. Or their mind breaks from the horrors that have been inflicted on them, if someone isn't there to sooth them away.'

The bushy haired girl turned her head and looked into her eyes with a piercing gaze. 'You can downplay your own role in Harry's recovery if you want, but when Harry asks me exactly what an anchor does, if he doesn't find out himself, I won't be sugarcoating exactly what it is you have done for him, Daphne. I've talked to Mr Weasley and Bill, and I know how damaged Harry likely was. There are few people who could have done what you did for Harry.'

Oh, great, now Harry's best friend also had found out about her impossible dream. The entire time he had been in that hospital bed all she had done was pray for a chance to show Harry that someone truly cared and loved him. Daphne's cheeks grew warm, and she didn't look at Hermione. 'Your point is?'

A warm hand covered hers. 'You have feelings for Harry, don't you?'

Her cheeks must glow in the dim light of the bower, they were so hot. She still didn't look at Hermione. 'Much good that they do me.' Was that bitter voice hers? It had to be.

Hermione pressed her hand. 'You'd be surprised. Harry has experienced so little friendliness in his life, so he cherishes everyone who is friendly to him. He might not yet have grasped what you did for him to the full extent, but he will soon, and he'll count you among his closest friends.'

Daphne gave a mirthless laugh. 'It's not his friendship that I want, Hermione.'

'Friendship can turn into more.'

'Not as long as the Weaselette is around.'

'Well, it's a good thing she's off to the USA then, and that you're going to be here,' Hermione said. 'Besides that, I doubt you'll have to worry about her in the long run.'

Daphne raised her head and looked at Hermione. 'What do you mean with that?'

Hermione pressed her hand yet another time. 'Harry is very close to me. I don't think there's anyone except maybe Ron who knows him better than I. Harry broke up with Ginny when their relationship was still new, in the honeymoon-phase, so to speak. Ginny hadn't yet done anything majorly wrong that would vex him. On top of that, she acted like a heroine out of a trashy romance novel when he broke up with her, and Harry fell for that, hook, line and sinker. Of course he missed her while we were on the run, but he didn't miss the real Ginny, he missed the picture he had built up in his mind of her. Until the time after the Battle he'd put Ginny on a pedestal and adored her in a way that really wasn't healthy.'

Daphne's stomach flip-flopped. Tori had tried to tell her the same. Tori was very observant, and Hermione knew Harry in a way nobody else did. Could it be they both saw something she wasn't able to see because of her feelings for Harry?

'Ginny took advantage of that. She always wanted Harry, though I'm still not sure if she ever saw anything else in him but the Boy-Who-Lived.' Hermione sighed. 'However, that's not all. You're a Slytherin, so I suppose you know what Ginny did during the war?'

Now it was Daphne's turn to sigh. 'You mean the fact she practically lived in the bedroom of Hogwarts' biggest man-whore from September until the beginning of the Easter holidays? You can't blame her for that, Hermione, you've no idea how it was at Hogwarts during that last year. The Carrows really had it in for her; they would've killed her within the first week of school hadn't he stepped in. He might be rather full of himself and the biggest womaniser I ever met, but he's a good man at heart, that's why he claimed her. To be fair: nobody knows what went on in that bedroom when they closed the door behind themselves.'

Hermione snorted at that. 'For a Slytherin, you're rather naïve.'

'You know, my sister said something like that to me when Father first brought up the idea of a marriage between Harry and me.' Daphne gave Hermione a brief smile. 'I told her that I'm not naïve, but trying to be rational about the situation. I don't want to delude myself with false hope. I did that during the last four weeks, and already it's come back to bite me.'

Her eyes stung, and she lowered her head. She wouldn't break out in tears about Harry in front of his best friend.

Hermione pressed her hand again. 'Do you want to talk about it?'

Daphne startled. Did she want to talk about her problems with Harry to his best friend? To be honest, no, but the whole situation was getting her in over her head; and it would be a relief to unburden herself to someone. Hermione had been nothing but friendly and understanding so far.

She gave Hermione another small smile. 'I don't know if it's a good idea to talk about Harry to you of all people, but I only have a vague idea of when my sister will return, and Merlin knows I need someone to talk to, or I'll go crazy.' She took a deep breath, and told Hermione everything that had happened on the morning after their return from their honeymoon, Harry's reaction to the article about the Weaselette, and finally the decision she had made. 'He'll be forever miserable in this marriage. I can't do that to him, Hermione. Even though my father will probably cast me out of the family for what I'm planning to do, I'm going to divorce Harry as soon as possible and let him make his own choices.'

Hermione gaped at her. 'You're going to do what?'

'I'm going to divorce him.' Daphne let out a tired sigh. 'I would've thought you'd be ecstatic about that.'

'Well, I'm not,' Hermione said, and straightened. 'Daphne Potter, you're an idiot. I can see now what Mr Weasley, Bill and Fleur meant when they told us that you and Harry will make a good match if you ever manage to pull your heads out of the place where the sun never shines. After what you told me about what you're planning on doing, I'll even say you're designed to be with each other. Are you sure the Sorting Hat never considered Gryffindor for you? It's exactly the kind of hairbrained, well-meaning and utterly idiotic gesture Harry would conceive and execute. I tell you now, if you turn your back on Harry, thus throwing away the best man you could ever want to have, and drive him back to Ginny, I'll hex you into the next millennium.'

The blood rushed in Daphne's ears, and her breath caught in her throat. Did she hear right? She blinked, and stared at Hermione, mouth slack. 'Do you… Do you…?'

Hermione scooted closer to her on the bench and put an arm around her. 'I want to see Harry happy, Daphne, but I seriously doubt he'll find that happiness with Ginny; not after what I observed while we all were together at _The Burrow_ after the war, and not after everything Lavender Brown told us about Ginny's exploits during the last year when Ron and I met her in Cairns a couple of weeks ago. I don't think I've ever seen Ron that angry. He loves his little sister to bits, but he also loves Harry, and the thought she might be using Harry has shaken him up pretty bad.'

She gave Daphne a short hug. 'Look, if you're going to divorce Harry right now, he'll no doubt run back to Ginny as soon as he's free. All I ask of you is put back your plan until Harry has had the time to get over Ginny. If your marriage still doesn't work out at that point, you can get divorced then, with my blessing and help.'

Daphne turned her head and looked at Hermione. 'Why are you doing this? I always thought you and Weasley were best friends.'

'Who? Ginny and me?' Hermione burst out into laughter. 'Sorry, but I don't understand why people always think that. Ginny and I have nothing in common, except Harry, and even that is doubtful, considering her attitude towards him. We get along well enough, but she's not anyone I could talk to or confide in.'

She gave Daphne another hug and got up. 'Think about it before you make a rash decision, that's all I ask of you.'

Daphne held her back by the arm. 'Please, don't tell Harry what I told you. I don't want him to know yet what I feel for him; it's too embarrassing, and I don't want him to feel pressured into pretending to feel something for me in return when he actually doesn't.'

'Don't worry, I won't, though I will tell him everything I found out about how the anchor during the treatment is supposed to work if he asks me. And you and I both know that he will ask me at some point. Who knows though, maybe, just maybe, this will be the catalyst that gets him to think about what he could have with you.' With a small wave at Daphne she left the bower.

Daphne leaned back on the bench, closed her eyes, and let out a long sigh. Hermione had given her a lot to think about. She'd had no idea that his closest friend had doubts about Harry's relationship to the Weaselette. This changed everything, didn't it?

She sat like that for a long time, her thoughts running in circles.

After a while, she opened her eyes and sat straight. No, it didn't change anything. It was not Hermione's place to make decisions about Harry's life, it still was up to him. She'd talk to him as soon as Ron and Hermione were gone, and…

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she wiped them away with an impatient gesture of her hand. She'd do nobody a favour if she broke down like a damsel in a bodice ripper novel, like Millicent used to read. 'Get a grip and finish your to-do list,' she admonished herself.

She pulled the notepad to her, opened it and put it on her knees. The biro poised over her short list, she thought of what else to do, but her mind was blank. Her future seemed to loom ahead of her, dark and bleak, and it was impossible to get past that.

'I should've known I'll find you in your hiding place. You always come here when you need to think,' a male voice interrupted her thoughts.

Her head jerked up, her nerveless fingers lost the grip of the biro, and it clattered to the ground.

'Father!'

Where had he come from? She'd been that immersed in her morose thoughts she hadn't heard his footsteps on the gravel of the path. She put the notepad beside her on the bench and went up to give him a dutiful kiss on the cheek in greeting.

He put his arms around her, gave her a small hug, and led her to the bench. His eyes fell on the notepad that still lay opened on the cushion, and his face became hard.

Sudden coldness hit her at the core and spread through her whole body. Damned! Why had she allowed him to catch her by surprise? Why hadn't she thought of closing the notepad? Her head hammered, and she braced herself for what she knew was going to come.

'Don't tell me you're planning on leaving your husband, daughter? The husband that I went to such trouble to arrange?' Father's voice was low and ice cold, and his eyes bore into hers.

She gathered herself, straightened, and reciprocated his cold stare. 'That's exactly what I'm going to do, Father, and you can't do anything to stop it. I was forced to agree to your despicable plan because I saw no other way to help Harry and prevent him from dying. However, you ran out of means to use as leverage, Father. Harry is as healthy as he has ever been in his life and can start training with Auror Academy in the spring, if he still wants to. Among the two of us, Harry and I have enough money to see us through any education we'd like to pursue. It's not in your power to pressure us into an unbearable marriage any longer, Father.'

Father's gaze didn't soften one bit. 'Oh, I think you'll find out that I still have leverage over you, daughter. If you pursue that route of action, I will cast you from the family.'

Daphne didn't even flinch. 'I thought as much. It's your decision to make, Father, as it is my decision to make with whom I'm going to share my life. If you're going to cast me out of the family for defending my freedom, so mote it be.'

Father's face turned ashen. 'I forbid it!'

'You're not in the position to forbid anything any longer, Father.'

He stepped closer and gripped her shoulders. 'Listen, Daphne -.'

'You heard what she said,' came a voice from the entrance of the bower.

They both whirled around.

Harry! Where had he come from that sudden?

Harry left his place at the entrance, stepped beside Daphne, and put his hand on the small of her back.

His silent support bolstered up her resolve, and she stood a little straighter.

'Any decisions that need to be made about this marriage are up to Daphne and I. So, if you would please excuse us, sir?' Harry said, and made an unmistakable gesture with his head towards the entrance of the bower.

Father's eyes went wide. For a brief moment he looked as if he was going to lash out at Harry, but another look at Harry seemed to make him think better of that.

She couldn't blame him on that; power radiated from Harry in almost palpable waves. Her skin tingled where he held his hand on her back, and his magic seemed to permeate her skin and mingle with her blood.

Father nodded, pressed his lips into a thin line, and left the bower.

Daphne and Harry stood still and listened until his steps faded away.

Harry's hand on the small of her back propelled Daphne back to the bench. He sat down, took her hand and pulled her beside him.

The feeling of loss when he pulled his hand away made her breath hitch. Damned, what did he do to her? She was going to break up with him, but she'd never be able to do so if a simple touch of his hand made her feel so… so complete. She looked up to him. 'How much did you hear?'

'Every word you spoke since your father entered here.' He slipped his wand out of its holster and cast a silent Muffliato, she recognised the spell by the movement. 'Now we can talk in private.' He picked up the notepad that lay between them and read the two lines she'd written.

Daphne held her breath. What would he say to her plan?

He looked up from the notepad and gave her a small smile. 'You're as thorough as Hermione in your preparations.'

'How would you know? I haven't come far yet.'

'No, but I recognise an organised mind when I see one,' he said, closed the notepad, and put it on the ground. He turned around and took both of her hands into his.

'Look, Daphne, I'm the last person in the world who wants to hold you in this marriage against your will. If a divorce is what you want, I'll back you and help you in any way I can to deal with the repercussions. However…' He trailed off and took a deep breath. 'I want you to think carefully about your decision. Don't rush into it, that's all I ask of you. Your father's threat to cast you out isn't something to be taken lightly. In the time we spent together, at least whilst we were in France, you've told me a lot about your family, and I know how much you love them, all of them, even your father.'

He paused and bit his lips. 'I grew up without a family, Daphne. Believe me, being alone is hell and not something that I would wish on anyone. Don't throw away something you cherish that much on my behalf.'

His words went straight to her heart. Tears welled up in her eyes, and this time it was impossible to blink them away.

'I'm not who you wanted.' She blurted out the first thought that came to her mind, and bit her tongue. A fine Slytherin she was!

'No, that's true, you aren't. But in the end, you might be who I need, and who knows what else we might discover about each other along the way.'

A jolt went through her body, and she caught her breath. Did he mean what he just said? Didn't he want to get out of this marriage? 'What do you mean by that?'

He pressed her hands, and again his magic seemed to connect with her.

'Well, I've thought a lot ever since I left you in such a hasty fashion.' He quirked her an ironic eyebrow, and she couldn't help the small snort that escaped her. 'I had no idea that I'm part-owner of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products. At the moment it's about all I have from my family, and so keeping the company alive and prosperous is very important to me. However, unlike you, I wasn't raised to lead a company, and thus I'm dependent on your help and the help of your father.

'If we get a divorce, things are going to become awkward between our families. I'd be the cause of the rift in your family; your father will resent that, and so will you, most likely, as soon as you've calmed down. That'll be detrimental to the prosperity of our company, I'd say. However, that's not all.'

Harry took a deep breath. 'I don't like it at all, but Mr Weasley was right when he said one day I'll hold a position in our society like Dumbledore did. It's already beginning; I can see it in people's faces when I talk to them, I can see in the way they stand when they are talking to me, testing me, wondering about my thoughts on a plethora of subjects that I know nothing about. Well, unlike Dumbledore I won't try to find the middle ground that suits everybody including the vocal minority. I'm not planning on sitting back, twiddling my thumbs and bemoaning the state of our magical society. I want change, and I'm going to use my name and my fame to make it happen.'

Daphne's eyes never left his face. Her heart hammered in her breast. Was this the silver lining she'd prayed for?

'I need your help to achieve my goals, Daphne. You have the connections to the moderate Purebloods I need to get on board, and your family has a hereditary seat on the Wizengamot through which I can potentially broadcast my ideas. I doubt your father will be averse to the idea of supporting me in these matters; On the contrary, it would be to his advantage to be known as a close confidante of the Man-Who-Conquered.'

He paused. 'And there's yet another thought that occurred to me after I talked to Ron today. Our wedding day wasn't among my worst memories, right?'

She nodded her head. Where was he going with that?

He gave her his devastating smile, and her heartbeat sped up. 'I think that counts for something, don't you agree? So, what do you say, Daphne? Will you forgive me for running away and not talking to you? Are you willing to give our marriage another try?'

He had to hear her heart, it was thumping so loudly it was deafening in her ears. Was she willing to give their marriage another try? Of course she was; this was what she'd hoped for: a reason to stay with him and not to apply for divorce, a chance to show him that she was worth his time. On top of it, _he_ had asked her to stay, _he_ wanted to continue the marriage. Was Hermione right, after all? Were his feelings for the Weaselette not what she always thought? Only time could tell, but she'd be an idiot if she let him go.

She took a deep, shaky breath. 'Yes, I am.'

His face lit up. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. 'Thank you, Daphne. You have no idea what it means to me, especially after the way I treated you during the last two weeks.'

'It hurt me Harry, it hurt me a lot when you just apparated away, I thought …' she shook her head; it wouldn't help to bring this stuff up, but she had to say something. 'I won't deny that you've hurt me, Harry. Please, don't let something like that ever happen again. If you have problems coping, talk to me, but don't run away.'

He gave her a sheepish grin. 'You know, Ron said the same. If two people as different as my best friend and my wife agree on something, I'd better listen.'

A broad smile spread on her face. 'I knew there's hope for you, Potter. Keep that up, and we'll get along fine.'

 _t.b.c._


	41. Chapter 38

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Thank you to Shygui for editing this chapter.

Chapters **37** and **38** , 29/04/18

* * *

 **38**

The Quidditch stadium and training grounds of the Taos Tornados were located in an unplottable valley of the _Sangre de Christo Mountains,_ and warded against Muggles with countless Muggle-Repelling-Charms and Notice-Me-Not Charms, on top of the amazing protection the resident population of Native American wizards and witches had cast on the place.

The sun had just risen over the mountain tops and sent long, golden rays of light on the gigantic stadium when Ginny mounted her broom - a new _Nimbus 3000,_ courtesy of the sponsor of the Tornados - and started her daily warm-up flying before practise. There'd be a training for the whole team after this, and special training units for the chasers in the late afternoon, when the sun was descending and it wasn't that frigging hot anymore.

She was halfway through her usual routine when she saw one of her teammates and co-chasers, Clay Cheevers, coming into the stadium, accompanied by two young men she hadn't met yet. Blonde and broad-shouldered Clay was at the age of twenty-two the only other unmarried player of the team beside her, and he had taken it upon himself to show her around and introduce her to his friends.

Not that she minded, just the contrary. Clay was from a very wealthy family, and was used to moving in the upper echelon of US magical society from early in his childhood. He was also known as an easy-going, friendly fellow, who would go out of his way for his teammates. That was one of the reasons they'd chosen the Taos Tornados: Clay was her ticket to the upper class of her new home country.

Clay waved at her with both arms. She did a final barrel roll and brought her broom down to land next to the three young men. She pulled her hair band out of her hair and shook her long, red mane. In the early morning sun it gleamed and sparkled like silken flames. From the corner of her eyes she cast a surreptitious look at the three young men. Their eyes were glued to her. Excellent, three potential candidates attracted. Now she only had to pick out the biggest fish among them and got him hooked.

'Morning, Clay! Do you want to get me into trouble with the trainer already that you disrupt my warm up?'

Clay laughed in response. 'Nah, old Willy wouldn't mind, I'm sure. I wanted to introduce two of my classmates to you. Ginny, meet Alexander Carrington and Elias Frudge. We shared a room at school for longer than I care to admit. Boys, this is our new star chaser, the amazing Ginevra Weasley.'

Alexander Carrington and Elias Frudge. Ginny mentally went through the record cards they had prepared before her move to the States that enlisted the potential candidates, their estimated wealth and their background.

At the name Carrington her inner alarm bell rang. Sure, they were an old and extremely rich family, but also ardent Pureblood supremacists, though the stance of the youngest scion of the house on that matter was not yet determined by the public. She'd treat him friendly, but keep her distance. Besides that, he wasn't much to look at: mouse coloured hair, eyes of a nondescript colour, somewhere between grey and brown, and a abysmal posture. On top of it he wasn't much taller than her.

Now, Elias Frudge on the other hand… His family was even richer than the Carringtons, and Elias was already the head of his house after his father died in a Muggle car accident a few years after his birth. Last year he had also lost his mother. Maybe she could comfort him? It wouldn't be much of a sacrifice on her part; he was extremely good looking, tall, with broad shoulders and a mop of wavy auburn coloured hair and dazzling blue eyes. Just as she liked her men, and not such a scrawny, small assortment of bones like Harry.

She held her hand out to the two young men and put on her most charming smile. 'Mr Carrington, Mr Frudge, it's a pleasure to meet you.'

They both bowed over her hand and kissed her knuckles, Carrington first, then Frudge. Carrington turned away after that and began a conversation with Clay.

Frudge offered her his arm. 'May I escort you to the cafeteria, Miss Weasley? You must be parched after your early training.'

She put the tips of her fingers on his arm. 'Thank you, Mr Frudge, that's very considerate of you. But please, call me Ginny.'

'Oh, in that case you must call me Elias, Ginny.'

He led her to the cafeteria, and Ginny let out a silent crow of triumph. Elias Frudge didn't know it yet, but he'd fall for her, fast and hard, or her name wasn't Ginevra Weasley.

 _t.b.c._


	42. Chapter 39

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** As always, a big **THANK YOU** to my fantastic beta Shygui, who tries to keep up with me, even if his actual workload is hell.

That brings me right to the problem: Shygui is right now having a very hectic time at work, with long days and almost zero spare time. I'd rather have him spending that little time loading his batteries and catch up on sleep than editing my story. The story won't run away and will be waiting for him until his life has slowed down.

So, we agreed that Shygui will take a much needed break. We're finishing the ongoing part of the story, which will come to an end in chapter 43. The next part, which is already mostly written, will be posted from August the 2nd on. I'll probably post that as Part II, because the story is becoming too long. I've not yet ended the first part, but the story is already at a wordcount I estimated for all three parts (so much for my ability to estimate the length of a story). I've not yet made the final decision, but if I do, I'll post an announcement at the end of this story, so that those with story alerts are notified.

Chapter **39,** 03/05/18

* * *

 **39**

Matty was waiting for them when they returned to the house.

'Mistress Isa ask Miss Daffy and the great Master Harry Potter over for dinner tonight.'

Harry's stomach clenched. Was there a way to avoid that? He exchanged a look with his wife. Her face had turned into a stony mask, and her eyes were dull, almost grey.

'Must we?' he asked.

She made a face and nodded. 'I'm afraid we must.'

'Ugh.' A dinner with Cyrus was the last thing he wanted right now.

She gave him a wry smile, squared her shoulders and turned to Matty. 'Please, tell Mother we will be over at seven.'

'Yes, Miss Daffy,' the elf replied and Apparated away.

Daphne looked at her wristwatch and then at Harry. 'You'd better hurry to take a shower and change, Harry. You look and, excuse me, smell as if you'd worked on a building site all day long.'

'Oops, sorry.' He gave her a rueful smile. 'That's because I have.'

She frowned. 'You've what?'

'I'll explain later,' he told her over his shoulder, already on his way out of the living room.

He took a quick shower and dressed in a pair of light summer slacks and a button down shirt. Daphne was still in the living room when he came down. She sat on the sofa, lent back, her legs crossed, and staring into the air ahead of her with unfocused eyes, her brows furrowed and her chin in her hand.

His chest tightened, and he bit his lips. This was all his fault. He hadn't been able to hide from her how much the article about Ginny had upset him. On top of it, he hadn't explained himself, but left her, and as a result she had come to the wrong conclusion about his motivations.

She'd risen even more in his esteem today; he'd already held her in high esteem for what he suspected she'd done for him, but he didn't dare think about what it must have cost her to offer him divorce, sound in the knowledge that her father would disown her. Thank Merlin he'd managed to talk her out of that notion. There was no doubt that Cyrus would have acted upon his word and disowned her. There also was no doubt she wouldn't have been able to deal with losing her family in the long run. And yet she'd been determined to face that destiny because she thought it would make him happy.

At the sound of his steps she looked up.

He held his hand out to her. 'Are you ready to face the music?'

She took his hand and got up. 'Not at all. Father is most displeased with me and will want to give me a piece of his mind.'

He tensed. 'He's not in a place to judge us. He forced us into this marriage, so he should've expected we'd have a hard time trying to adjust and that we would hit a rough patch sooner or later.'

'Oh, he did, Harry, he did. However, you have no idea how marriages are handled in Pureblood circles. Arranged marriages are still the norm. We girls are raised for that and expected to do our duty. I rebelled against my duty as your wife and a daughter of the House of Greengrass, and that's a huge offense in Father's eyes.'

Harry's pulse sped up, and his face went hot. 'What a bullshit.'

He was rewarded with a soft giggle from his wife, and intertwined his fingers with hers. 'Don't worry, Daph, I won't allow him to harass you.'

She seemed to blush at his words. 'Thank you, Harry.'

They left their house and walked across their patio to the adjoining patio in front of the breakfast room of _The Rectory._

'So, will you tell me what you've been up to during the last two weeks?' Daphne asked, her hand still in his. 'All Kreacher told me was that you were in your house. I suppose he meant the house your godfather left to you?'

He startled and gave a small laugh. 'You know, it's still hard to get used to the fact you know almost everything about me and I don't have to tell you much.'

'I know only the bad memories. You still have to tell me the good ones.'

There must have been something in his face or his body language that gave him away, for she stopped in her tracks and gasped. 'No… You can't be serious. You must have at least a few good memories.' She stared at him with wide eyes.

'I'm Harry. Sirius was my godfather,' he said in a deadpan voice, and got a light slap on his arm for that from his wife right away.

'Quit making jokes, Harry! You _must_ have some good memories.' She blinked.

Were there tears in her eyes? Merlin, he had a knack for making his wife uncomfortable, hadn't he? So much for his resolve to make things between Daphne and him work.

He pulled his hand out of hers and gave her a small, one armed hug. She didn't resist; her body moulded into his in a very pleasant way.

'Sorry, Daphne, I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. Yes, there are some good memories, though very few and very far in between, at least it seems so to me.' He let go of her and took her hand again.

She turned her head around to him. A faint blush dusted her cheeks. 'Will you tell me about them?'

'If you like.'

She pressed his hand. 'I'd love to hear them.'

They had reached the arch between the cypresses that led to the patio in front of the breakfast room. He looked around.

Delicate wicker chairs, decorated with colourful cushions, stood around a massive, wooden table. A huge sunshade cast a pleasant shadow over the table that was already set with colourful placemats and matching china and glasses. A jug, filled with sunflowers, stood in the middle of the table.

The French doors to the breakfast room stood open and allowed him a glimpse on rattan chairs around a round table and an abundance of orchids. He could see Matty and another house elf who looked like a younger version of her through the window of the adjoining kitchen.

A heavenly smell wafted through the open doors, and his stomach reacted with an appreciative growl. Daphne's stomach followed only seconds later. Harry grinned at her. 'I hope your elves hurry up with dinner. I don't want to deal with a grumpy wife on top of everything today.'

She gave him a small shove with her shoulder. 'I resent that, Potter.'

'So you already found out about Daph's dirty little secret, Harry?' an amused voice interrupted their banter. They turned around.

Tori moved her wheelchair around the corner of the west wing of the house. He knew from what Daphne had told him about the layout of the house and grounds that a path led from the patio around the west wing into the park. Cyrus followed right behind her, Isabella on his arm.

At the sight of Daphne, Isabella gasped, and her hand flew to her mouth. 'Daphne! What have you done to your beautiful hair?'

'You look great, sis,' Tori said at the same time.

'Your skirt is too short,' Cyrus said.

'I don't think so,' Harry said to Daphne in a low voice, winked at her, and gave a pointed look at her legs that were advertised by the rather short, flaring skirt of her red-flowered, sleeveless summer dress and a pair of high heeled sandals.

A small giggle escaped Daphne's mouth, though she blushed. She twirled a lock of her hair around her finger and turned around to her mother. 'Don't you like it? Fleur told me it's the latest Muggle fashion, and all the girls are getting what they are calling the Rachel hairstyle.'

Isabella stepped to her daughter and pulled her into a hug. 'You know that long hair is the most becoming asset of a girl, Daphne. I'm sure Harry is most displeased with you that you cut off your hair.'

Merlin, Daphne hadn't exaggerated when she told him about her parents. Isabella seemed not yet to have caught on that they were approaching the next turn of the century, and that fashion had changed quite a bit since the last. Besides that, Daphne had a couple of other, most attractive assets, her hair being the least of them.

'Actually, I think Daphne looks great,' he said, and rolled his eyes at his wife behind Isabella's back.

Isabella turned towards him and hugged him. 'If you say so, Harry.'

She let go of him, and he bent down to give Tori a hug.

'Don't let Mother and Father get at you. They are more than a trifle old fashioned,' she said into his ear.

He straightened and winked a thanks at her. Of his in-laws, he liked Tori best. She had a wicked sense of humour, and if she felt any resentment about the illness that was going to kill her at a very young age, she never let on.

'Daphne, I like to have a word with you before dinner.' Cyrus' voice cut into his greetings with Tori.

Harry turned to his wife. She had turned pale, and the look on her face was the look of a deer caught in the lights of the approaching car. He stepped beside her and put his hand on the small of her back to assure her. His hand tingled where he touched her. 'If this is about the talk we had in the bower, sir, I don't think that's necessary. I've said everything that needs to be said on the subject, and I'm sure Daphne shares my opinion.'

Daphne leaned towards his touch, and she nodded.

He increased the pressure of his hand against her back. The tingling intensified. He'd be damned if he let Cyrus walk all over Daphne and harass her even more than he already had.

Cyrus looked from him to Daphne and back with flashing eyes, and pressed his lips into a hard, thin line. 'I see,' he said, and held a chair out for his wife.

Daphne swayed, and Harry slipped his arm around her waist and held her to offer his support. She turned her head and gave him a weak smile, to which he answered with a soft squeeze, and then helped her to sit down in the chair he held out for her.

He was well aware of the questioning looks Isabella and Tori cast at him and Daphne, and of the frown that still marred Cyrus' face when he took his seat beside his wife, but he ignored them. He'd promised Daphne to back her up in any confrontation with her father, and that was what he was going to do. Under the cover of the table he grabbed for Daphne's hand she had clenched into the skirt of her dress, and pressed it lightly.

She turned her head and mouthed a silent 'Thank you' at him.

Matty relieved the tension by serving the first course, and Isabella and Tori added to that by asking about their honeymoon in Paris during the meal. However, the meal was one of the most uncomfortable he had ever had, his meals at the Dursleys included, and that was saying something.

Daphne's shoulders slumped when her parents and sister went into the house much later that night, and they walked back to their own house. 'Thank you for supporting me, Harry.'

She looked worn, the evening under Cyrus' disapproving stare had got to her, and she'd barely eaten anything of the delicious food they'd been served.

He put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a reassuring hug. 'It's yours when you need it, besides, it seems it's in the job description of a husband, you know. At least that's what I've been told.'

She laughed and leaned her head against his shoulder.

A slight tingle went through his body. He looked down at her blonde head; this was nice, he could easily get used to this.

The light scent of lavender from the flower beds that surrounded the patio hung in the air as they ambled back to their house through the warm summer night. In silent, but mutual agreement they settled down on the big sofa in the living room. There really was no reason to pull away his arm; Daphne fit in just right.

'Kreacher,' he called.

Daphne gave him a questioning side glance. He grinned at her.

 _Plop!_

'How can Kreacher serve Mistress and Master?'

'Kreacher, can you nick some of the delicious blackberry pie and ice cream we had for dessert at the main house? Your mistress wasn't able to do it justice during dinner.'

Kreacher nodded and Apparated away. Seconds later he appeared again and put a plate with an enormous slice of pie and ice cream on the coffee table in front of Daphne.

She let out a delighted little scream, scooped up the plate and the spoon and took a bite. 'Mhmmm!' she said with closed eyes, and let herself sink back against Harry. She swallowed, turned her head, and gave him a small peck on the cheek. 'You know, for a new and rather unwilling groom you're doing very well in the husband department.'

His cheek tingled from the sensation of her lips on his skin, and his face grew warm. He grinned down at her. 'That's pure self-preservation, my dear wife. Merlin knows what you'll do to me if I don't feed you properly.'

She didn't deign him an answer and continued devouring her dessert in a manner that would have given her mother a fit.

* * *

The rest of the summer went by in a blur.

The next morning he showed Grimmauld Place number twelve to Daphne. Side by side they wandered through the house, and he told her about the Christmas break he'd spent here with Sirius.

'It was the only time we got to spend more than a couple of hours together,' he said. Their footsteps echoed in the bare house. 'However, it wasn't enough, and we hardly ever had the time for an undisturbed talk.'

'Why's that?' she asked.

'Well, the Weasleys stayed here. You've heard my memory about how Mr Weasley got bitten by Voldemort's pet snake at the Ministry?'

She shuddered and nodded to that.

'They stayed with us to be near him while he was at St Mungo's. Mrs Weasley didn't trust Sirius at all. Back then, I thought it was because she still believed he betrayed my parents and killed all these Muggles. Nowadays, I'm not so sure anymore.'

Daphne looked up in his face with furrowed eyebrows.

'I think it's because she thought him irresponsible when it came to me. He didn't act like a man in his mid-thirties, you know? Sometimes, he still behaved like a teenager. I remember at one point Remus warned him of not taking me for my father.'

She had nestled her hand into his when he began to tell her his memories about Sirius, and now pressed his hand lightly. 'That's probably due to his time in Azkaban. He was thrown into jail at the age of twenty-one, and had no contact to other human beings except of the wardens. How was he supposed to make the experiences other men of his age made? To fall in love, marry, start a family, or simply start rising through the ranks in the job he'd chosen?'

Harry stopped in his tracks and stared at her. 'You know, that thought never occurred to me.' He smiled and returned the pressure of her hand. 'You're a very insightful woman.'

She blushed at his praise. Come to think of that, she always did when he said something nice to her, and she also looked rather cute when she did so. Perhaps he should say more nice things to her…

'Of course, Mrs Weasley's attempts to keep me away from Sirius vexed me to no end. Merlin, I was a teenager, and I thought him cool. Besides that, he was the only thing close -' He broke off and bit his lips. No, it was too embarrassing to admit to his longing for a father.

'He was the only thing close to a father you ever had,' Daphne said in a low voice, finishing the sentence for him.

His sight blurred, and his throat constricted, so he just nodded.

Daphne slid her arm around his and squeezed it lightly. She didn't say a word, but melted against his side. Warmth spread through his body and soothed him, like balm on an open wound. The pressure in his throat subsided.

They didn't talk much anymore until they reached the conservatory on the flat roof top.

'This is beautiful,' Daphne said. She held the two sides of the doorframe with her hands and looked into the conservatory. 'This is a wonderful room to have tea or read a book during the cold months, and feel as if you're miles away from the city.' She pushed herself off the doorframe, turned around to Harry, and linked arms with him. 'You know, this would be a good place to start a family after we've finished our education. There are ten bedrooms here, enough for a Weasley sized family,' - she winked at him - 'and the room behind the kitchen at the back of the house would make a wonderful family room. Not to mention that the garden is huge for a house in London.'

The heat crept into his face; they hadn't even kissed yet, let alone done anything that harboured the remote chance to lead to the heir Cyrus hoped for. However, he had to agree. 'Yeah, and the house has the additional advantage to be unplottable and under a Fidelius Charm.'

'So Father can't get in,' she said, and nodded.

'That wasn't what I meant,' he said, and the heat crept in his cheeks. Could she tell he was lying? Yes, she could.

The corners of her mouth twitched. 'Liar. It was what you thought. Though I agree.'

They laughed, and neither Cyrus nor their future family were mentioned again that day. Instead, they Apparated to a remote place at the Cornish Coast and had a long walk with the sun on their faces and the wind in their hair. They had a late dinner at a historical inn with a huge fireplace, a low, beamed ceiling and lots of copper pans and other copper kitchen utensils hanging at the walls. Afterwards, they lingered over a bottle of wine and talked.

It had become their habit when they were out together to hold hands across the table, even when they were in the Muggle world, always mindful of the odd wizard or witch who might see them. Today, however, it no longer seemed that much of an obligation, and he'd studied her hand in his for the last couple of minutes.

Her fingers were so tiny and frail next to his, but surprisingly strong and calloused from her gardening. There were still faint traces of dirt under her short fingernails that she hadn't been able to scrub away. Who would've thought that his well-groomed Pureblood wife liked to burrow her hands in the earth like a mole? He definitely needed to introduce her to Neville.

'Harry, why don't we get Grimmauld Place ready right now?' Daphne asked.

'Huh?' Her question startled him out of the contemplation of her hand. He looked up.

She leaned forward; her eyes shone, and her free hand fiddled with the stem of her wine glass. She raised her hand and pushed a strand of her hair out of her face. 'I mean, you've seen how Father is. Don't think that this will be the last time he tries to meddle with our affairs, even though you've put him in his place. He'll try again; I know him, it's how he is, he is nothing if not persistent.' She bit on her lower lip and went on. 'I think it'll be good to have a place to escape to if he becomes unbearable.'

Harry gaped at her. Was she serious? She almost bounced in her chair as she waited for his response with an expectant smile on her face.

'You might be on to something.'

Her smile broadened, and she squeezed his hand. 'I knew you'd agree.'

'Hold your Hippogriffs.' He raised his hand to caution her. 'Won't he cast you out for that step, too?' He picked up his glass and took a sip. His breath caught at the devious expression in her eyes: all of a sudden he knew why she had been sorted into Slytherin.

'No, and that's the beauty of it. He can't blame me on following the orders of my husband.'

'What?' Harry choked at his wine and coughed. He took another sip to clear his throat and looked at her with watery eyes. 'Thank you very much, Mrs Potter. Will you always feed me to the wolves if it suits your purpose?'

'You can handle him,' she said, not at all impressed by his dilemma.

He shook his head at her, but laughed nevertheless. Yes, her idea had merits, but…

'Do we have enough money to bring the house into order? And assumed we're going to tell your father to shove it at one point, do we have enough money to get us through our education? Remember, in that case we'll most likely have to wait until I'm thirty to get access to the estate.'

Daphne rubbed her brow with a finger and shook her head at him. 'Uh… Harry… Did you ever read the vault statement Father gave you?'

'Yes, I did. However, I have no idea about the cost of things, so I wouldn't know whether it's enough or not.'

'It's more than enough to set the house to order and get us through any education we'd like to pursue.' She smiled at him. 'So, what do you think of my suggestion?'

He returned her smile and pressed her hand lightly. Warmth spread from their linked fingers up his arm and then through his whole body. 'I think it's brilliant.'

* * *

Over the next two weeks they spent every spare minute of the day at Grimmauld Place. With Kreacher's help, they put new plaster and wall paper on the walls, polished the floor boards in all the rooms, and even installed new bathrooms. It was hard work, but had the added bonus to keep them away from _The Rectory_ and forestall any further attempts Cyrus might want to make to meddle with their marriage. Not to mention he was having fun working together with Daphne.

She insisted that they interrupt their work on the house for a day and spend it in Diagon Alley, where she talked him into getting measured for new robes at Twillfitt and Tattlings. They had an early dinner afterwards at the only restaurant in the alley, their first appearance as a married couple in the magical world.

They'd planned that performance ahead, and he liked to think he did very well. Daphne had instructed him about how to behave, so he'd offered her his arm, held doors open for her and kissed her hand and cheek at every opportune moment. That hadn't proved to be too onerous for him, either. Her cheeks were velvety soft under his lips, and the spicy fragrance she wore was growing on him. Of course, Daphne had also played her part, and clung to him in a way he didn't mind at all.

They were found out by Rita Skeeter's spies - no surprise there -, and the next morning _The Daily Prophet_ featured a story about them, together with a rather blurred paparazzi photo. In the wake of that story Skeeter earned at least a month's rent by writing additional articles that speculated about the state of their marriage.

'You know, I had no idea you're secretly in love with one Raoul Dubois,' he said at breakfast three days after their visit in Diagon Alley, and turned the page of _The Daily Prophet_ in search of something more interesting to read.

Daphne almost choked on the bite of sausage she had just taken. 'I'm what?' She gave a wheezing breath, coughed, and took a sip of tea to clear her throat. 'Merlin, Harry, if you want to get rid of me, there are easier ways than springing such nonsense at me and hope I'll choke to death.'

'Well, it says so in the _Prophet_ ,' he said, and grinned at her over the edge of the newspaper. 'If it's in the paper, it must be true, don't you think?'

'Prat. And I'm going to kill Skeeter. Raoul was my date for the Yule Ball. He was a smarmy git who used every trick in the book trying to get into my knickers.'

He wriggled his eyebrows at her from behind the newspaper. 'Was he successful? If yes, do you think he'll share the secrets of his success with me?'

She narrowed her eyes at him. 'Don't push your luck, Potter.'

Indeed, she was cute when she was riled up. However, during the last weeks he'd also learned not to push her too far. She was way too proficient with the Pinching Hex for his taste, and could even cast it without a wand, something he'd found out after one of their light hearted banters had ended in a mock duel and he had disarmed her with his trademark spell. He hadn't been able to sit without Numbing Charms on his derriere for the rest of the day.

She was right, it was better for him to stop here and now. He changed the topic. 'At least your father left us alone.'

'He's afraid of you,' Daphne said with a straight face, and cut off another piece of her sausage.

Harry lowered the newspaper. His eyebrows must reach his hairline, he was sure. 'Afraid of me?'

Daphne chewed, nodded, and swallowed. She took a sip of tea to clear her throat. 'Of course,' she said, putting the teacup back onto the saucer. 'Father might have had the upper hand while you were ill and weak, but that has changed. You can hex him into the next millennium, and he knows that ever since our encounter in the bower. You're the Vanquisher-of-Voldemort. No wizard or witch in their own mind would dare to mess with you.'

'Except for my own wife,' he said, and ducked back behind his newspaper just in time to avoid the piece of toast she threw at him.

He lowered the newspaper and glared at her, though the corners of his mouth twitched. She responded to his fake glare with an angelic smile.

The peck of an owl at the kitchen window interrupted what might have led to another painful Pinching Hex to the buttocks for him. Daphne went to the window to claim the letter, but as soon as she had opened the window, an excitable ball of feathers zoomed over her head and into the kitchen, where it circled just below the beamed ceiling, very much like the wind-up aeroplane Dudley got for his fifth birthday and which he'd managed to destroy on its maiden flight through the backyard.

Daphne gaped at the owl over her shoulder, her hand still on the frame of the open window.

Harry grinned and pointed his wand at the circling owl. 'Accio, Pig.'

The owl let out a startled squeak and zoomed straight into his outstretched hand.

'Pig?' Daphne asked, and closed the window. Her voice had raised at least one octave.

'It's Ron's owl,' he said, his attention focussed on the wriggling owl. Damned, Pig was even worse than an eel. How was he supposed to remove the letter from the owl's leg if it fluttered like mad?

Daphne snorted and sat down again. 'I should've known that, only a Weasley could own such a crazy familiar.'

He only nodded to that, Pig left him no room for distractions. Finally! He let go of the bird, and Pig at once fluttered over to the kitchen counter where he settled down and preened as if he'd just delivered a letter in the most stately manner.

Harry opened the letter and read it. 'It's a joint letter from Ron and Hermione,' he said, and looked up to his wife. 'They want us to meet them at The Delhi Tulip, an Indian restaurant in Ottery Saint Mary. Hermione wants to spend an evening with us before she heads back to Hogwarts to repeat her seventh year.'

She didn't answer at once. Instead, she lowered her gaze to her plate and worried her lower lips between her teeth.

'Daphne? Is something wrong?'

She looked up. 'Are you sure they want me to tag along?'

She had a point there. Before Ron and Hermione's surprise visit he'd also have had his doubts. However, they'd both been sensible about his marriage, and Ron, of all people, had even advised him how to overcome the awkward situation with Daphne. He folded the letter and shoved it into the back pocket of his jeans.

'Yes, I'm sure they want to see you, or they wouldn't have said it.'

She still bit her lips. 'Even so, you haven't seen each other for months. You must have a lot to talk about you feel uncomfortable to share with an outsider.' She shook her head and smiled at him. 'No, Harry, go alone and enjoy some quality time with your friends.'

His face went slack. They'd spent so much time together during the last couple of weeks that it was somehow wrong not to have her with him. Or… Didn't she want to be with them… him? His breath hitched.

'Alright,' he said. His voice sounded less than enthusiastic.

She must've heard it, too, for she raised her head from the toast she just prepared, and gave him a small smile. 'I'll visit with Tori tonight. I've neglected her a bit since our wedding, and besides she'll also be off to Hogwarts next week.'

He shifted in his seat. Merlin, he was such an egotistical and insensitive prat; he'd hogged all her time over the last couple of weeks, without once thinking she might like to spend time with her sister, a sister she was incredibly close to. The pressure in his chest vanished, and he smiled at her. 'Alright, I'll miss you though.'

That had been out before he thought about it. Now she must think him a possessive git. His face grew warm.

Her head jerked up; she gaped at him, then slowly a broad smile spread over her face.

'I'll miss you, too.'

His heart made a flip-flop, and the corners of his mouth turned up until his smile matched hers. They looked at each other for a long moment; the smile still stayed on his face when he returned behind his newspaper.

* * *

Harry entered The Delhi Tulip, stopped in his tracks and blinked a couple of times. This place looked the way he'd always imagined Aladdin's cave would. A big crystal chandelier, suspended from the ceiling in the middle of the room, cast a golden, glittering light over the scene, colourful silk drapes hung from the chandelier to the sides of the room and transformated what was a former country pub into a luxurious tent. The impression was only enhanced by the huge oriental carpet that covered the floor, and the red, velvet-covered chairs and benches around oval tables made out of a gleaming dark wood. There were brass bowls and other exotic looking knicknacks everywhere. Drifting over everything there was the inviting smell of the exotic and spicy Indian food. His stomach gave an appreciative growl; he and Daphne had spent the day shopping furniture for Grimmauld Place, and he had worked up quite an appetite.

Ron and Hermione waved at him from a table in a corner of the room.

'Where's Daphne?' Hermione asked, as soon as the greetings were over and he'd slipped into the bench opposite of his friends.

'She told me to give you her best, however, she insisted that I should meet you alone tonight, firstly because we haven't seen each other in ages and need to have some quality time, and secondly because I have been monopolising her time; she is spending some quality time with her sister before she too heads back to Hogwarts.'

Hermione's face slacked. 'Oh.' She shifted in her seat. 'Pity! I would've loved to get to know her better.'

He blinked. Now, who would've thought that? 'Would you?'

'What's so surprising about that?' Hermione asked. 'I put up with you two for seven years, and eventually would love to have some female support against the two of you.'

Harry gave a small laugh. 'You had Ginny,' he replied. Hermione and Ginny always had been best friends, hadn't they?

Hermione exchanged one of these looks with Ron. It was Ron who answered.

'Er … well … mate, Hermione and Ginny, they're kinda as different as you could get. All they had in common was you and me, mate.'

He bit his lips. Ron was right if he looked at it from this point of view. He'd never given the relationship of the two girls much thought, had always assumed they were best friends because they often were in each other's company… What else had not been like he thought it was?

'Don't get me wrong, Harry, Ginny and I get along well.' Hermione's voice prevented him from pursuing that unwelcomed thought. She'd put her hand on his and squeezed it. 'It's only… I'd love to talk to a girl who shares significantly more of my interests.'

He tilted his head to the side. 'Daphne is such a girl?'

Hermione let out a small laugh. 'Oh yes, she is. You know, except for Parkinson and Bulstrode the girls of all four houses kept civil, if not friendly relationships. I always was on polite terms with the three other Slytherin girls, Davis, Roper and Daphne, though we never advertised it for obvious reasons.'

She paused and fiddled with a beer mat. 'Parkinson and Bulstrode were best friends, and so were Roper and Davis. Daphne was always the odd one out among her Slytherin yearmates. We were often paired up in Runes and Arithmancy and worked well together. I would've loved to get to know her, but you know how it was.'

Harry leaned back in his seat. Who would've thought that his spat with Malfoy on the train, before they even set a foot into Hogwarts, had such repercussions? The bitter animosity it had caused between him and Malfoy had forced every student of their year to pick a side. How many possible friendships or alliances had they destroyed by their childish behaviour?

He gave Hermione a strained smile. 'I'll tell Daphne what you said. I think she'll like it. Maybe you can meet for a girls day out before you return to Hogwarts.'

'I'd love that,' Hermione said, beaming at him.

The waiter served their drinks, and afterwards they gave in to Ron's whines and sampled their dinner from the buffet. Daphne wasn't mentioned anymore; when the three of them were together, they never ran out of topics to talk about.

But Hermione's words were still on Harry's mind when he Apparated back to _The Rectory_ a couple of hours later.

He opened the gate to the courtyard. Ahead of him, the big house was quiet and dark. However, when he walked into the patio in front of _The Coach House,_ golden light shimmered through the closed curtain in front of the living room window. So, Daphne was still awake and had waited up for him?

Harry entered the house and opened the door to the living room. Daphne was curled up in a corner of the big sofa, sound asleep. She had already changed for the night and covered herself with the afghan that usually lay across the armrest of the sofa. In the soft light of the Everburning Candles in the sconce behind her she looked very young and vulnerable.

He put a hand on her shoulder to wake her up. She stirred and cuddled deeper under the blanket, but didn't wake.

'Daphne? Wake up; it's late, you'll be more comfortable in bed.'

No response.

Again, he shook her shoulder, gentle so he wouldn't startle her. Just like him, she wore her wand all the time in an invisible holster at her wrist, and Merlin knew how she'd react if he startled her out of a deep sleep.

There still was no response. Harry chuckled; his new bride surely had a healthy ability to sleep.

He looked down on his sleeping wife and contemplated his next step. Should he let her stay here all night? No, that wasn't an option, she'd wake up with a kink in her neck and would be grumpy because of it all day long. That left him with only one possibility.

He bent down, slid his arms behind her back and in the hollow of her knees, and straightened. She was as light as a feather. He cradled her to his chest; her head rolled against his shoulder, her hair tickled his face, and he got a whiff of the spicy fragrance he by now associated with her. She snuggled to his chest, a small smile appeared on her lips, and she let out a soft noise of contentment.

His stomach gave a light flutter, warmth spread through his chest where she snuggled against him, and he held her closer.

His sleeping wife in his arms, he made his way up to their bedroom.

 _t.b.c._


	43. Chapter 40

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** I can't mention enough how much this story owes to Shygui's careful and meticulous editing. He puts his finger on the points I'm missing, and by now his additions match my writing to a point where I can't tell anymore which was his and which is mine.

Chapter **40** , 06/05/18

* * *

 **40**

Fleur had been spot on with her advice. If this dress didn't make Harry's eyes bulge out of his head, her name wasn't Daphne Potter.

She made a last pirouette in front of the floor length mirror in the bathroom of their hotel suite. The black dress had a tight bodice and hugged her hips, before it fell down to the floor in graceful folds and ended in a small train. The eyecatcher, however, was the collared neckline and one-shoulder strap, which left her left shoulder and most of her back bare.

She'd put up her hair in a simple hairdo to enhance the effect, Fleur had also advised her not to put on jewellery for the same reason. A plain black clutch and matching high heels completed the outfit. _Nothing, and I mean nothing, ought to take Harry's attention away from you, Daphne,_ Fleur had said.

Today was the day of the Golden Apple Charity Dinner, an event Mother had created to fund the research into rare diseases when Tori's condition first became apparent, and that was sponsored by Crystal Fairy Beauty Products. She had to be content to help in the Muggle world; the magical world at large had not yet realised the need for scientific research on rare diseases. The notion that nothing could be done against curse-induced, inheritable ailments still prevailed, so why squander good gold on a lost cause? After all, at some point in history the families affected by such an ailment must have done something to deserve it.

Daphne blinked away the tears that welled up in her eyes at the thought of her sister. Tori's fate was so unfair, yet she had to deal with it as best as she could.

She walked into the living room. Harry stood in front of the fireplace, his back turned to her; even in this position it was obvious how uncomfortable he felt in his evening clothes. Her heart melted like chocolate in the sunshine; in spite of all the horrible things that had happened to him, he was still such a lost boy.

At the sound of her entrance he turned around. His jaw slacked; he stared at her for a long moment, and gulped. 'Wow… I just ... ummm ... Wow, you look … amazing.' His voice sounded hoarse.

She bit her tongue to hold back the cry of triumph that welled up in her. Not even in her wildest fantasies had she dreamed that she would induce such a reaction. She put on her sweetest smile and sashayed towards him, while her heart beat like the drummer at the Edinburgh Tattoo. 'I take it you like my dress?'

'Uh… oh yeah.' His eyes were glued to her; he put two fingers behind his collar and pulled at it.

'Now you've messed up your bowtie. Here, let me help you.' She stepped so close to him that the warmth of his body enveloped her, and loosened his bowtie. Her heartbeat became even louder and faster in her ears. Merlin forbid that he would hear it.

She fumbled with his bowtie, her fingers all of a sudden clumsy and stiff. The smell of his light cologne rose into her nose, and she had to suppress the sudden urge to pull him close and kiss him until his toes curled.

'There, all done.' She stepped back and looked up to him.

He gulped, his adam's apple bobbing. 'Th...thank you.'

Their eyes locked. He made a step towards her; his hands slid along her bare arms. The hairs at the back of her neck stood up, and a delicious weakness spread from her belly all over her body. She leaned towards him. His face was close, so close…

There was a knock at the door. 'Daphne, Harry, are you ready?'

Mother. Damn her timing!

'Coming, Mother.'

She picked up her wrap with burning cheeks, and she didn't dare look at Harry. Ever since the night he'd carried her to bed when she fell asleep whilst waiting for him they'd been dancing around each other; holding hands, touching each other, but never daring to take the next step. This had to come to an end, it was slowly killing her -.

Harry took the wrap out of her hands and put it over her shoulders. He stepped closer, his arms slid around her from behind. His mouth was next to her ear. 'We'll talk after the dinner.' His lips brushed her cheek, and again her hair stood up, with a shiver sliding up her spine.

She looked at him over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised. 'Talk?'

There was that devastating grin again. 'Uh… well, maybe not talk exactly.'

Her belly fluttered almost painful. Three months of marriage, and she still hadn't got used to that grin. If Circe was kind she never would -.

Another knock on the door. 'Daphne, Harry, what is taking you so long?'

Harry rolled his eyes at her and offered her his arm. 'Shall we?'

On Harry's arm she stepped out onto the hotel corridor. Mother and Father waited in front of their suite. They had booked the adjoining suite; Mother had insisted on getting ready for the event in London and staying here overnight. Not that she'd minded much, she'd used the opportunity to get pampered at a Muggle hairdresser, while Harry visited with Ron that morning.

Ron had joined the Aurors in September, and Hermione had headed back to Hogwarts, while she and Harry had started at Canterbury Magical University. Skeeter had almost had a heart attack when she found out that Harry didn't join the Aurors, it had taken a while, but after six weeks, the public furore had died down.

'It's about time,' Mother said. She could've sworn Mother had tapped her foot only seconds ago.

Father intervened on her behalf. 'Let's get going, Isabella. The first guests are going to arrive soon.' She was back in his good graces since he'd realised she wouldn't make good on her plans to divorce Harry; not that she cared about it. She still hadn't forgiven him completely for the way he had forced Harry and her into this marriage, and probably never would.

They walked down to the ballroom of the hotel. A red carpet had been rolled out from the entrance to the foyer in front of the ballroom where Mother and Father would receive the guests. The invitations had been auctioned of, and each attending couple had paid several thousand Pounds for admittance.

The Golden Apple Charity Dinner was one of the you-must-be-seen-at events in the calendars of the leading British scions of business. The men and women of these prestigious companies as well as celebrities always attended, and so it always attracted a huge amount of press coverage. A few select society reporters and photographers were allowed inside during the reception before the dinner, but the bulk had to wait outside, hoping to catch the V.I.P.s on their way over the red carpet.

She and Harry had no official role in this - yet, but Mother had insisted that she and Harry had to attend, "to learn how things are done," since as the future owners of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products it would be their turn to host the event one day. However, Father had told them he'd take the opportunity to introduce them to some of the most influential Muggles in Great Britain.

They took their places beside Mother and Father. The muscles of Harry's arm were stiff under her hand. His nervousness was almost palpable. She gave his arm a light squeeze, and at once the now familiar tingle shot up her arm and through her body. At least he relaxed under her touch and even smiled at her.

She gazed at his his mouth, and her belly fluttered again, almost hungrily. How would it be like to press her lips on his? Would they be as soft and tender as she'd imagined in her girlish dreams - and still dreamt of when she lay beside him at night?

He noticed her gaze and frowned. 'Everything alright, Daph?' he asked, his mouth close to her ear.

His breath on her skin once again made the hairs on her arms stand up. What would Mother say if she took Harry by the arm right now and dragged him back to their suite? A nervous giggle welled up inside of her, and it took all her willpower to maintain a calm face.

'I'm fine,' she said, and gave his arm another squeeze. Thank Merlin, neither Harry nor her parents were Legilimens. That would have been too embarrassing.

Thirty minutes later, the foyer was teeming with people. Mother and Father just greeted a rather sophisticated looking couple, who for their part introduced a familiar looking young couple to Mother and Father. Wasn't that-.

'Isn't that Justin Finch-Fletchley and Lisa Turpin?' Harry asked.

She nodded and opened her mouth to answer him, but at the same moment Father beckoned them towards him. 'My Lady, My Lord, let me introduce my daughter Daphne and my son-in-law, Mr Harry Potter. Daphne, Harry, these are the Countess and Viscount Lynton.'

Lord Lynton stiffened at the mentioning of Harry's name, and his gaze flickered to Harry's forehead, where the lightning-bolt shaped scar was, though it was barely visible anymore. The Lyntons exchanged the customary greetings with them, then Lord Lynton pulled Justin forward. 'I believe, you know my son and his fiancé, Miss Turpin, Mrs and Mr Potter.'

A broad smile appeared on Harry's face. 'Of course we do. We were classmates, and Justin attends university together with Daphne and I. Lisa, Justin, it's great to see you here.' He exchanged a one-armed hug and slaps on the shoulder with Justin, and gave Lisa a handshake and a kiss on the cheek.

Lisa congratulated her on her marriage and her new look. If she was surprised to see her married to Harry, she at least didn't let on.

The last guests trickled in. The corners of Daphne's mouth twitched at the sight of one of the last couples.

The man wore an evening suit that had been fitted for him in slimmer days. He had a red, round face on a rotund body, without a visible neck to separate them, the effect reminded her of a cherry tomato on top of a potato, and the mustache that hung down on both sides of his mouth gave him the appearance of a walrus.

The woman was taller than him, and as thin as he was fat. Her long neck would have done a giraffe proud, and her face… Well, she'd seen more handsome horses. She'd certainly seen more tasteful dresses than the flowered and frilly pink nightmare the woman wore.

Beside her, Harry was still talking to Justin. She gave him a small nudge, and he turned around.

'Harry, have a look over there; see the couple still waiting in the reception line. Have you ever seen something that hilarious?' She discreetly pointed her chin at the couple in question.

Harry looked into the direction she had pointed out. The smile froze on his face, and his body seemed to be rooted to the spot. 'That can't be true,' he whispered.

'Harry?'

He didn't hear her.

Father motioned them to join him; it appeared he was going to introduce them to the ridiculous couple.

Harry still didn't move; she pulled on his arm, and he set into motion, though his movements were stiff and uncoordinated, like the movements of the teacup she had to animate to walk across the table in her sixth year.

'Mrs and Mr Dursley, let me introduce you to my daughter Daphne and her husband, Mr Harry Potter. Daphne, Harry, this -'

'No need to introduce them, Cyrus,' Harry said. His voice was devoid of emotion. 'Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, I hope you are well.'

What? These were the monsters who starved and beat Harry, ridiculed him and made his life hell on earth until he could finally escape them when he came of age? A hot flame engulfed her, the blood roared in her ears, and spots appeared before her eyes. She'd give them a taste of their own medicine for what they'd done to her Harry, she'd hex them into the next millennium and _not_ back…

She flicked her wrist to get at her wand.

With the lightening speed of a Seeker Harry grabbed her wrist and forced the wand back into its holster.

'Don't, Daph; they aren't worth the trouble.'

His touch on her arm brought her back to her senses. She looked up in his face: his eyes were dark, almost black, and his mouth was set in a taut line. He'd pulled his hand from her wrist, slipped his arm around her waist instead, and held her in an iron grip; a new level of intimacy that would've melted her into a puddle of goo any other time.

This very moment, however, the tenseness of his body against hers was a sure sign Mount Potter was seething. Power radiated from him, and the side of her body where she was pressed to him seemed to be unnatural hot. No doubt he wanted to prevent her from using magic against these horrible Muggles, but he was also using her as a shield to keep himself under control.

She slipped her arm around him and pulled him even closer. The side of her body tingled with the feeling of his magic, as if it was seeping into her. Which was nonsense, of course. Strange, it always happened when he was upset…

He relaxed under her touch, and the heat subsided, thank Merlin. They exchanged a long look.

'Harry? Daphne? What is this all about?' Father's voice cut in.

She took a deep breath, plastered a false smile on her face, and turned to Father. 'Nothing to worry about, Father. Harry had just had an unexpected family reunion.'

The walrus' face had assumed an interesting shade of brownish purple. He turned to Father, bared his teeth and jerked a fat, short thumb at Harry. 'Have you an idea who this is?'

'Of course I have. This is my son-in-law, Mr Harry Potter, as I already told you,' Father said, his eyes narrowed.

'Knocked up your daughter, didn't he?' The walrus sneered at her flat tummy.

Heat shot into her cheeks. This time he was going to pay. She flicked her wrist.

Harry was faster than her. When had he moved? He stood chest to chest with the walrus, his eyes two emerald flames that burned the obese pig alive. He had his wand in his hand - how did it get there that fast? - and pointed it at the walrus' groin, covered from the other Muggles in the room by the enormous belly of the man.

'You'd better never again insult my wife, Uncle Vernon. I'm not a helpless kid anymore, now I have the power and the means to crush you under my foot, and I won't hesitate to do just that.'

There was no doubt about that, power crackled around him, and she swore there was an unearthly glow around him for the blink of an eye and a hint of ozone that lingered in the air for a moment.

The walrus turned ashen. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and a small whimper escaped his mouth.

Harry let his wand slip back into his holster and stepped back. His magic seemed to retreat back in his body, though his eyes still drilled holes in the walrus.

'You've heard me, Uncle Vernon. Now, get going. You're holding up the line.'

The horse-faced woman stared at Harry, and Daphne shuddered at the feverish intensity in her eyes. Her skin was pale under her make-up, her posture was unnatural stiff, and her teeth were bared in a grimace even the most good willed person couldn't take for a smile. 'Come on, Vernon,' she said in a shrill voice, and tugged the walrus by the arm. They disappeared among the other guests. Only few curious looks followed them. Had Harry cast a silent Notice-Me-Not Charm before he took his uncle to task? It seemed so, otherwise their fight would have attracted more attention.

Mother looked after them over her nose. 'Shocking manners, honestly!'

Daphne suppressed a nervous giggle. Harry stepped beside her and slid his arm around her waist once again. She leaned against him; it was new and exhilarating, yet it was so right.

'Are you alright, Daph?'

'Yeah. Thanks for standing up for me.'

'I told you it comes with the job description.' He smirked at her, although his eyes remained troubled.

The reception line came to an end, and they were free to mingle. A waiter offered them champagne, and Harry picked two glasses from the tablet and handed one to her. She sipped on her champagne and cast a surreptitious look at her husband.

He had calmed down, though he was still a far cry from being relaxed: the muscles of his arm were stiff under her hand. Was it still nervousness? That was doubtful, he'd held himself so well in the reception line. It had to be the encounter with his horrible relatives, then.

Her eyes scanned the crowd. There they were, at a bar table with Lord and Lady Lynton and Lisa and Justin. In accordance with the name of the event, the tables were decorated with red tablecloths and small arrangements of flowers and golden apples. Vernon Dursley's face fitted right in with the colour of the tablecloths. Even from her place across the hall the sycophancy oozing from Dursley was visible.

Lord and Lady Lynton's demeanour didn't let on whether they were repulsed, and Justin also put on a brave front and blank face. Lisa, however, had her lips curled and her nose wrinkled, and tried to keep as much distance as possible between herself and the Dursleys; she had her face averted from them and watched the mingling guests.

As soon as she felt Daphne's gaze upon herself, her eyes lit up, and she grabbed Justin by the arm and dragged him across the room.

'Thank you for giving us an excuse to leave that table. Ugh, what a smarmy git,' she said, and took a fresh glass of champagne from the tablet a waiter offered to them.

Harry let out a mirthless laugh. 'You don't have to tell me, he's my uncle.'

Lisa's face turned a deep shade of red.

'And this, ladies and gentlemen, was a prime example of the Lisa-Turpin-foot-in-mouth disease, another rare disease that needs scientific research to help us find a cure,' Justin said with a chuckle, put his arm around his fiancé and gave her a kiss on the cheek to take the sting out of his words.

'Sorry, Harry, I didn't mean to offend you,' Lisa said, still pink in the face.

Harry gave a dismissive wave of his hand. 'Don't worry about that. I can't stand him, either.' He grinned at her. 'So, you and Justin? I never saw that coming.'

Lisa grabbed for Justin's hand and leaned against him. 'Well, we only got engaged last week, but we've been together since last October.'

'How did you get together? Neither of you returned to school,' Daphne said. 'In Justin's case, I can understand. But -.' She interrupted herself and looked at Harry. 'Could you give us some privacy, Harry? I don't think everyone in this room should listen into our conversation.'

He nodded, and made a small movement with his right arm behind the cover of her back. 'Alright, we can talk openly.'

'Good; you're the best.' She gave him a small peck on the cheek and turned back to Lisa. 'You're a Halfblood, aren't you? Weren't you required by law to return to Hogwarts?'

Lisa nodded to that. 'Yes, my father is a Muggleborn, while my mother is a Vaisey by birth. She was warned by my uncle, who is rather high up in the Ministry, that something was afoot, though he couldn't put his finger on it. As Slytherin alumni, he and mum decided it was better to be safe than sorry. So, we left Britain right after the end of sixth year and stayed in a house mum's family owns in France. My younger brother and I enrolled at Beauxbatons in September.' She gave a small shrug. 'I'm almost ashamed to say it, but we had an easy war.'

'Same for me,' Justin said. 'Ernie sent me a warning while I was still in Monaco for the summer with my family. We have a flat there, and mother and father spend a lot of time there when my sister and I are at school. We simply stayed in Monaco; my sister isn't magical; she finished school last summer and was planning on beginning her studies at Harvard, anyway. I enrolled at Beauxbatons, too, where I met Lisa.' He put his arm around the girl and pulled her towards him. 'The rest is history, as they say.'

His face sobered. 'Like Lisa said, we had an easy war. We didn't return to magical Britain until my D.A. galleon heated up, the Weasley twins alerted me you had turned up at Hogwarts and everyone was getting ready to battle the monster. Lisa insisted on coming with me.'

'As if I ever would've let you go alone,' Lisa said.

Justin gave her a soft kiss. 'I know,' he said, and Daphne's throat tightened at the tenderness of his expression and his voice. She'd give anything to experience something like that with Harry.

She cast a side glance at her husband. His eyes darted to the young couple so obviously in love for a brief moment, but now he averted his face, and there was that taut line around his chin again. Was he thinking of _her_? Possibly.

Despite them getting closer and his undeniable physical attraction towards her, every now and then something happened that reminded him of the Weaselette, and he'd withdraw into himself.

A few days ago, there had been a report about the Weaselette and her new agent in _The Daily Prophet,_ her alleged Slytherin lover, of all people. Harry's eyes had become hard when he read it, and he had hardly talked to her that day. Had he known about the relationship of the Weaselette and their former Slytherin classmate during the war? His reaction indicated that he did, however, he seemed to be surprised that there still were relations, and he didn't take it kindly. Who had told him? Ron and Hermione? The Weaselette? Would it change his feelings for the redhead? No, it was better not to think about that, better not to give in to false hopes.

A dull ache spread in her chest, and she bit on the inside of her cheeks until it subsided. She had no right to take offense at his feelings for the girl, she had to be patient with him, he was trying so hard to make things between them work, she repeated her mantra.

'Somehow, you three make me feel pretty worthless. I was back at home and safe before the Battle even started,' she said.

Harry took her hand and gave it a squeeze. 'Don't worry about that, Daph. I was there, I saw how McGonagall forced the whole of Slytherin out of the school before the Battle began. Besides that, you had to take care of Tori. I doubt anyone of her classmates would've given a damn about her, not after what you told me how bigoted the greater magical society is in regards to her illness.'

Warmth welled up in her at his touch and his comforting words, and she returned the pressure of his hand.

Lisa puckered her lips, her brows knitted in a deep frown. 'Come to think of it, that was pretty high-handed of McGonagall, wasn't it? She made a judgement about a whole house because of the attitude of a few, and never asked once if there were students in Slytherin who wanted to fight for our freedom, too.'

Daphne shrugged. 'You get used to that. Occupational hazard of being a Slytherin, I guess. We were all painted with the same brush as Malfoy and his friends, though the other four students of our year and most students of the years below us gave them a wide berth.'

'I suppose the Gryffindor in McGonagall took over,' Harry said. 'The prejudices against Slytherin are strong in my former house; I don't think any of my housemates ever considered the possibility of a decent Slytherin. For us, they all were Death Eaters in the making. I'm ashamed to say I thought like that until this summer.' He linked his fingers with hers and gave her a rueful smile.

Daphne nudged his shoulder with hers. 'Good for you. Until this summer I would have doubted the possibility of a Gryffindor capable of learning.'

They laughed, but Lisa's eyes darted between her and Harry. 'You two are cute together. I never would've thought that, given that _The Daily Prophet_ reported you married because of a family agreement.' She blushed once again. 'Oops, I guess I shouldn't have said that.'

Harry gave her a wry grin. 'Foot-in-mouth-disease again?'

Lisa nodded, and they all laughed.

'Well, for a couple who not once talked to each other before they were told they had to marry four weeks prior to the actual event, Daphne and I are doing pretty well.'

Lisa gaped at him. Thank Merlin that moment the doors of the dining room opened, and they followed the crowd. About twelve round tables for eight had been put up in the room, facing a small pulpit and a projection screen. The whole room was decorated in white and gold, and the silver and porcelain on the tables with centerpieces of white roses and golden apples in their middle sparkled in the light of the six huge crystal chandeliers that suspended from the high ceiling.

To their delight, the four young people found out they shared a table, together with Lord and Lady Lynton. Daphne looked around, trying to determine who the fourth couple at their table might be. Her eyes fell on the Dursleys, approaching their table. Oh no!

A small groan must have escaped her, because Harry looked at her, one eyebrow raised. The next moment, his face became hard as his aunt and uncle settled down in the two remaining free seats opposite of them.

Vernon Dursley lost no time. He glared at Harry. 'I wonder who let you join such a party, boy. You don't belong here.'

That was tame, compared to what she had learned about that man from Harry's hallucinations, but an offense nevertheless. Her whole body tensed up, and she gritted her teeth. To hell with the restriction of use of magic against Muggles, if she'd ever met a Muggle who deserved everything that was coming at him, it was this disgusting pig.

Lisa and Justin exchanged a horrified glance, and Lord and Lady Lynton curled their lips and looked at each other with a pained expression.

Harry, however, kept his calm, though his eyes looked like green storm clouds. Of course, he was used to the man, he wouldn't jump at every bait.

'You know, Uncle Vernon, I could say the same about you. Last time I checked you were one of about a dozen of directors at Grunning's, but you didn't belong to the leading businessmen of Great Britain, or had the means to pay for the cards for this event.' He made a gesture with his hand that included the whole room.

Once again, Vernon Dursley turned that interesting shade of brownish purple. He'd get a stroke if he carried on like this, which wouldn't be a surprise. That man was even fatter than a walrus.

This time, his horse of a wife stepped in. She straightened in her chair and looked at Harry down her nose, as if he was a cockroach. 'I have you to know that your uncle got promoted to C.E.O. of Grunnings when we returned from… the place you forced us to go.'

The corners of Harry's mouth lifted up in a grin. 'Is that so? I wonder if Daedalus had a hand in that. I'll have to ask him the next time I see him. There's nothing a competent wizard can't do with a well-executed Confundus Charm.'

At the word "wizard", both Dursleys squeaked and turned ashen.

Vernon Dursley raised his glass and took a sip. His hand trembled, and his eyes darted around the table. 'I thought you aren't allowed to talk about your kind in front of normal people, boy.'

Harry purred like a Manticore about to devour its prey. 'Don't worry about that, Uncle Vernon. Daphne, Lisa and Justin were my classmates at Hogwarts. Lord and Lady Lynton, while Muggles, are Justin's parents and well aware of magic. You don't have to worry about the staff, either. I put up a strong Privacy Charm as soon as we sat down.'

Daphne raised her eyebrows. Who would've thought her gentle husband had it in him to taunt his hated relatives like a cat the mouse? That was almost Slytherin of him. The expression on the faces of the Dursleys at these revelations made up for a lot of what they'd done to Harry. Who was she to deny him some payback?

There were small whimpers from the Dursleys, and Lisa suppressed a snort, while Justin had a broad grin on his face.

Lady Lynton addressed Harry. 'I take it your relatives are not delighted that you are a wizard, Mr Potter?' The corners of her mouth twitched.

'Not at all, madam. They tried their best to get it out of me, however, to no avail.'

She blanched and her hand flew to her mouth. 'Of course not. It's impossible to change something that essential as your magic.' She and her husband ignored the Dursleys from that moment on, and so did Justin and Lisa.

The waiters served the first course, and the talk around the table turned to other topics, their honeymoon in Paris and Lisa and Justin's upcoming nuptials being the center of the conversation. While the Dursleys, aware of the disapproval of the Lyntons and their heir and his fiancé, did nothing to join the conversation, it didn't keep them from listening into every word and throwing dark looks at Harry.

Their hate seemed to roll off Harry like water from the back of a duck. He ate his dinner without any signs of being aware of the death glares they sent their way, and participated in the conversation around the table.

His eyes, dark and clouded, told another story.

The plates of the first course were removed, and Mother addressed the dinner guests. Nobody looked at them, all attention was turned on Mother. She slipped her hand under the table and put it on Harry's thigh. He was tensed up to a point where his muscles quivered from the effort to keep his calm. Merlin, how had he managed to keep this tension under a lid?

As soon as her hand touched him, tingles shot up her arm, almost painful.

His head whipped around. He stared at her for a long moment, then slumped in his seat and covered her hand with his.

She entwined her fingers with his; the almost painful tingles gave way to a warmth that seemed to spread to and fro between them and eventually permeated her whole body.

Mother's speech came to an end, the second course was served, and the Dursleys returned to giving Harry death glares across the table. The dinner dragged on. During the next break between courses one of the researchers reported about the progress on his project.

This time, Harry's hand stole into hers, as if he was looking for reassurance from her, the moment the researcher stepped on the pulpit.

'What are your plans for the future, Mr Potter?' Lord Lynton asked during the main course.

Harry dabbed his mouth with his napkin and took a sip of wine. 'Well, I suppose Justin already told you that Daphne and I study Magical Economics together with him. We'll be working in the management of Crystal Fairy's after that. One day, hopefully not for a long time, Daphne and I are going to take charge of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products.'

'Had to marry into money to make it anywhere, hadn't you, boy?' Vernon Dursley sneered.

Harry didn't answer, though he shot a murderous glare at his uncle.

She started. The blood rushed in her ears. How did that abomination dare? She took a deep breath. Harry wouldn't thank her if she'd lose her composure - not to mention what Mother would have to say on that matter.

'I'll have you to know, Mr Dursley, that Harry didn't need to "marry into money", as you put it oh so tactfully. He's got more than enough of his own.'

Dursley snorted at that. 'I wonder where that money should come from. Surely not from his lazy layabout of a father.'

That insult had the Finch-Fletchleys and Lisa gasp. Harry ignored his uncle and ate his dinner as if he had no concerns in the world. However, he grabbed his cutlery so tight the knuckles of his hands stood out white.

She gave Dursley her sweetest smile. 'That lazy layabout, how you have the audacity to call my late father-in-law, was the only son and heir of Fleamont Potter, co-founder and co-owner of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products. Alas, my father-in-law and his wife were killed before they had a chance to finished their studies and take up their roles within the management of the company, so it was up to my father to lead the company during Harry's minority. Harry and I will be the third generation of Greengrasses and Potters to lead Crystal Fairy, and I for my part know that Harry will be as good as my father at that, if not better.'

Harry put down his cutlery, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. 'Thank you for your vote of confidence, Daph.'

Dursley stammered something unintelligible. Thank Merlin, the next speaker stepped onto the pulpit, thus putting an end to the undignified squabble.

Once again, Harry grabbed for her hand under the cover of the tablecloth.

At last, the seemingly endless agony of the dinner came to an end. The Dursleys were the first to leave. They gave stiff nods to the Finch-Fletchleys and Lisa, and ignored Harry and Daphne altogether. All the more cordial were the goodbyes of Lord and Lady Lynton, not to mention Lisa and Justin's. Over coffee, they made plans with Justin and Lisa for a Saturday night out together.

Father and Mother went to the hotel bar for a night cap with some of their friends, and she and Harry were allowed to return to their suite. Harry walked in long strides, as if he couldn't wait to be out of the public eye. She had problems keeping up with him, but after one look at his tense face she knew better than to complain.

Back in their suite, he slumped down on the sofa, loosened his bowtie, and buried his face in the palms of his hands.

'Merlin, what a nightmare of an evening.'

Daphne sat down beside him. She put her hand on his back and rubbed it in soothing circles. 'I knew they were horrible from our time in Paris, but I had no idea how horrible they are.'

'Oh, that was nothing tonight. You should've seen them - and heard them! - while I still lived with them.' He lowered his hands and looked at her with bloodshot eyes. 'Thank you, Daph. I wouldn't have known how to go through this evening without you. More than once you kept me from losing it.'

There was it again, that devastating lopsided grin, but his lips quivered and his eyes were two shiny black pools. The next moment she had gathered him in her arms and cradled his head to her chest.

He didn't cry. He was quiet, but his whole body trembled under an unbearable strain.

She carded her fingers through his hair, rocked him in her arms, and waited until the trembling subsided.

It was a long wait.

'All I ever wanted was to be loved by them.'

His voice was the voice of a small child, and Daphne bit her lips to prevent herself from bursting out into tears. Merlin damn these monsters!

'I know, Harry.'

He raised his head and looked at her. The spark of life had returned into his eyes, however, deep down she could still see the little boy who begged to be loved and couldn't understand why he was always rejected.

Their faces were close. Her breath caught. She couldn't tell him how much she loved him, it would make things even more awkward between them as long as he hadn't overcome his feelings for the Weaselette. But she could show him - actions spoke louder than words, didn't they? And maybe one day he'd realise what had been right in front of him all along and love her back. Hope dies last, or so they said.

Without another thought she closed the gap between them and kissed him.

 _t.b.c._


	44. Chapter 41

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's note:** An extra big thank you to Shygui, who took the time to edit the last three chapters of part one on top of his workload.

* * *

 **41**

Daphne shot out of the Floo, at least three yards into the taproom, and just so managed to grab the edge of a table to prevent herself from falling on her arse. She looked around. Had anyone noticed?

The whole pub had, going by the sudden quiet and the stares she got, some of them compassionate, but most of them barely hiding amusement.

The heat shot into her face; straightening, she put on the most indifferent expression Miss Ogden had taught her for emergencies like this.

A hand waved at her from a corner of the room. 'Daphne, here!'

She let out a breath. There was the hole to vanish into she had looked for. She rushed over to the table with her three friends.

'My, my, Mrs Potter, you know how to make an entrance,' Hermione said and gave her a hug.

'I know I told you you were going to turn heads when we went shopping in Paris, but this was not what I had in mind,' Fleur said and greeted her with kisses on both cheeks, her eyes dancing with laughter.

Lisa was the last to hug her. 'You know, it's good for a change not to be the one to draw the unwanted attention on herself.'

'I'm happy I could provide entertainment for you all.' She put a frown on her face and looked daggers at her friends while she slipped into the seat next to Lisa.

The three were unrepentant, no surprise there. A reluctant grin formed on her face, and she shook her head. 'You're impossible. Tell me again, why do I hang out with you?'

'Because you still need our advice in how to seduce your husband,' Fleur replied, and pushed a mug with warmed butterbeer her way.

Daphne's eyes became huge, and she sent a frantic look around at the other customers of _The Three Broomsticks._ It was a Hogsmeade weekend, and the pub was packed with students. The last thing she and Harry needed was details of their private life becoming fodder for the insatiable Hogwarts rumour mill, let alone the rest of the magical world.

'Don't worry, I've set up Privacy Wards as soon as we sat down at this table,' Hermione said, and winked at her across the table. 'They won't understand a word. So, spill it, how are things between our still newlyweds?'

She put her cold hands around the mug, the sweet aroma reached her nostrils, and she looked at the three young women who had become close friends to her during the last six months.

Fleur had offered her a hand in friendship during the weeks full of anxiety and dread that led to her wedding, and had been invaluable in helping her through the first awkward weeks of her marriage.

She'd won Hermione's friendship - and by extension Ron's - without even trying, just because she had agreed to marry Harry and saved him from a premature death. They had followed Harry's suggestion, spent a girl's night out, and had bonded over their mutual love for one certain raven-haired wizard. Funny enough, she had been the catalyst in the friendship between Fleur and Hermione.

Hermione had already lost most of her reservations regarding the Veela during the time she had found shelter at _Shell Cottage._ It also helped that she was finally secure about Ron's feelings for her, not to mention Ron had developed an immunity to Fleur's allure that almost matched Harry's. However, there was no denying that she had brought the two witches together.

Lisa was the last addition to their little group. They had become closer because of Justin, but also because Lisa was now working as a trainee on the job in the management of the magical part of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products. Father had insisted that she and Harry had to do internships at the company as soon as they had begun their studies, and whenever they were at the company's headquarters in London, they sought out their former classmate for their lunch breaks.

She never would've got to know them that well, weren't it for her marriage to Harry. A soft glow surfaced in her heart. Her life had changed so much, all because of Harry. Because of him she'd found the guts to stand up against Father, because of him she'd made the effort to step out of her shroud of invisibility, and because of him she'd found friends for the first time in her life. Due to the neutrality of her family, and due to the house she'd been sorted in at Hogwarts, friendships had been impossible. Until now, Astoria had been her only confidante.

A smile spread across her face, and she inwardly shook her head about herself. Astoria was right, she was so pathetic when it came to Harry.

Her friends scooted nearer on their chairs.

'Oh, look at that smile! You've finally done the deed, haven't 't you?' Lisa asked.

'Oh, I do hope Harry has been keeping his end of the bargain up?' Hermione bounced her eyebrows in a suggestive way.

Uh… what? The heat shot in Daphne's cheeks. 'Hermione, I thought he was like a brother to you.'

'I know, I know … ' Hermione's face took on some colour of its own. 'But I've never really had close girlfriends before, and suddenly I understood the urge to share, tease and, god forbid, giggle, besides he isn't really my brother, is he? Added to that I'm getting lots of good loving, so why shouldn't you?' She gave a shrug that rivaled Fleur's best very French shrug.

The heat in Daphne's cheeks intensified. Hermione was getting _lots of good loving?_ Did she want to know more? Uh - probably not, it would only make her jealous. She suppressed a sigh and shook her head. 'Uh… not yet. We're not yet ready for that.'

Lisa raised her eyebrows. 'You've been married for five months. One should think you're more than ready by now. What by Merlin's unmentionables is keeping you from hopping on and going for a ride? You know ride em cowgirl!'

'Did you really have to be that crude?' Hermione said.

Lisa snorted. 'You're one to talk.'

Daphne tuned their banter out. Her stomach squirmed into uncomfortable knots, and she bit her bottom lip. What was holding them… her… back? That was a difficult question to answer. She lowered her gaze to the mug in front of her and circled its rim with one finger in thought.

Ever since their first kiss after that horrible charity dinner - their first real kiss, anyway, that travesty during their Binding Ceremony didn't count - Harry had become more and more pronounced in demonstrating physical affection towards her. However, "physical" was the keyword in that sentence.

If only she could be sure that affection was aimed solely at her. He treated her just like she wanted to be treated; his kisses were as intoxicating and addictive as she had imagined in all her girlish fantasies. He was tender, passionate, and the mere thought of what he could do to her with his lips and his hands made delicious shivers run down her body and her belly flip-flop in anticipation of more. There was no doubt he was falling for her body. But was he falling for her? He never said.

 _Whenever he touches you, whenever he kisses you, or whenever he sleeps with you, he'll be thinking of me._

Why, oh, Merlin, why, did she have to think of these words each time he kissed her, each time he caressed her in a way that turned her into a breathless, quivering mess?

A warm hand covered hers; she looked up into Hermione's eyes. There was a lot of understanding in them.

'Do you remember our talk in the bower, Daphne?'

How could she ever forget that talk? She nodded.

'I told you that Harry wasn't in love with Ginny. I tell you now he's over her, or he wouldn't have made an effort with you at all. However, has he given up on her? I don't know, it's a completely different question and it's not one that I dare to answer just yet. I wouldn't bet that he won't run straight to her if you were to let him go right now.'

Damn, that confirmed all her doubts.

Hermione gave her hand a soft squeeze. 'Daphne, Harry has never consciously experienced love. What he thought was love were his teenage hormones acting up. He wouldn't recognise love if it bit him in the nose, the arse or anywhere else that you might like to bite him.'

She gave her a saucy wink, and again the heat rushed into Daphne's cheeks. Fleur chuckled, whilst Lisa just gave Hermione a look that said: really? And you call me crude!

'Don't wait for him to tell you that he loves you; he most likely never will, he'll second guess himself until the cows come home. But don't give up on him, just keep doing what you're doing, and I'm sure you'll win his heart in the end.'

Hermione's words were the reassurance she needed. She raised her head to give her friend a thankful smile, but her mouth refused to obey the command of her brain: her lips trembled and her eyes stung. 'Why does he have to be so damned complicated?'

Hermione patted her hand. 'Because he's Harry Potter and he wouldn't be worth it if he wasn't complicated.' She let her hand go and addressed the whole group. 'How about it, ladies, are you ready to tackle our Christmas shopping?'

* * *

Daphne walked out of the bathroom, a thick terry cloth bathrobe over her underwear and petticoat, and was greeted by the sight of her profusely swearing husband. Harry stood next to the window, already clad in trousers and a starched, white dress shirt, and tried in vain to fasten his cuff links to the cuffs of his shirt.

She raised an eyebrow. 'My, are you that happy to see me?'

His head jerked around, and a rueful smile appeared on his face. 'These damned things are driving me up the wall.' He showed her his cuff with the cufflink dangling from one of the buttonholes.

The corners of her mouth twitched. 'That's obvious.' She walked around their bed until she stood next to him. 'Let me help you.'

With a few moves she fastened the cufflinks on both cuffs.

'Thank you.' He slid his arms around her waist, pulled her close and gave her a small kiss.

The smell of his light cologne enveloped her, and she raised her hand to caress his smooth, freshly shaven cheek. 'Mmmh, as soft as a baby botty.'

He laughed, rubbed his cheek against hers, and let go of her. 'You'd better get ready, or Isabella will have kittens if we're not on time for her Christmas Eve dinner.'

She pouted, but shrugged out of her bathrobe to get dressed, and opened the wardrobe.

Harry's arms slid around her waist from behind. 'Nice petticoat.' She couldn't see his face, but the smile in his voice was unmistakable. 'On a second thought, how much time do we have left until we have to go over?' He nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck.

The effect was devastating, as always. She craned her neck to give him better access, and her hand rose on its own accord to tangle her fingers in his hair. Her thoughts became fuzzy, her breath came in short gasps, and a sluggish warmth spread from her belly all over her body and turned her knees weak.

It took all her willpower to turn around in his arms and push him away. 'Not enough for what you obviously have in mind. If you're a good boy, I might finally allow you to unwrap a Christmas gift under the tree when we return tonight.'

He leaned forward and gave her a light kiss. 'Is that a promise?' He wriggled his brows at her suggestively.

She mock-scowled at him. 'If you're a very good boy! Now let go of me, I need to get dressed.'

He laughed, let her go, pulled the dinner robes that hung at the outside of their wardrobe from the hanger, slipped into the robes, and straightened his bowtie. Daphne grabbed behind him and pulled her own evening robes out of the wardrobe. 'Not bad, Mr Potter.' She smirked at him and slipped into the very conservative dark green evening robes Mother would approve of, and fastened the long row of tiny buttons on the back with a flick of her wand.

Harry looked at her from top to toe, a frown on his face. His gaze lingered on the high, stiff collar of her robes that ended in a small ruffle. Matching ruffles adorned the sleeves of the robes around her wrists, and three rows of ruffles were sewn around the hem of the floor length skirt. 'I wish I could say the same about you. These robes are… ugh! You look like old Queen Victoria.'

'I'll have you to know, dear husband, that these robes are the latest in Pureblood evening fashion.'

'Yuck.'

She smirked at him. 'I didn't say that I disagree. However, Mother and Great Aunty Augusta would have my hide if I turned up in anything less than formal evening robes tonight.' She walked to her dresser to put on some perfume.

'Great Aunty Augusta?'

'Oh, didn't I tell you that Christmas Eve dinner is a celebration of the extended family?' she asked him over her shoulder. 'Though, we're not that many anymore. Only Mother, Father, Tori, and Great Aunty Augusta, grandfather's last surviving sister, and her grandson, Neville Longbottom.'

She'd saved that surprise until the last possible moment, and was now rewarded by Harry's face brightening.

'Neville? That's brilliant, I haven't seen him in ages.'

'I knew you'd be delighted.' She grabbed for her evening purse and linked arms with him. 'Let's get going. I have our presents to everyone shrunken and in my purse. I hope you've thought of getting a present for your lovely wife.' She mock-glared at him.

He laughed. 'Shrunken and in my pocket. You know, my dear wife, I don't have a death wish. Though I don't understand why we exchange gifts tonight. Christmas Day is tomorrow.'

'That's because the Greengrasses are originally from Austria,' she said as they walked down the stairs. 'It's custom over there to exchange gifts on Christmas Eve, and we still adhere to that old tradition. It also comes in handy, since we're going to spend Christmas Day at the Weasley's.'

Had he sensed the strain in her voice? No, he nodded in understanding to her explanation and didn't seem to notice anything unusual.

She suppressed a sigh; she wasn't looking forward to the day at _The Burrow._ While all Weasley men, along with Fleur and Hermione, treated her as a friend, or even their honorary sister-in-law, Molly Weasley probably never would go so far to include her in the family the way she did with Fleur and Hermione. The way she looked at her whenever she thought she wouldn't notice made all the bad jokes she'd ever heard about vicious mother-in-laws sound tame.

At least the Weaselette wouldn't be there, Hermione had told her she'd written home she didn't get long enough off for a trip back home. Thank Merlin for little blessings.

Matty already held the door open for them when they reached the main house.

'Good evening, Matty.' Daphne bent down and gave the elf a small hug.

Matty beamed at her. 'Good evening, Missy Daffy. Mistress and master and their guests are waiting in the drawing room for Missy Daffy and her great Harry Potter master.'

She led them through the broad hallway to the drawing room at the back of the house. The family portraits, all decorated with evergreens and red bows, called out greetings to them. Matty opened the door to the drawing room for them. 'The great Harry Potter master and his Missy Daffy.'

The announcement made Harry blush to the roots of his hair. It didn't help much, either, that the occupants of the room all bit back a laugh at the funny announcement.

She almost had to drag her embarrassed husband into the room. The drawing room was the biggest room in the house and designed for formal entertainment. A huge Christmas tree, reaching from the floor to the eighteen foot ceiling, and decorated with an abundance of silver Christmas ornaments and white bows, stood in one corner of the room. A merry fire crackled in the fireplace, and the whole room smelled of fresh pine.

Mother rose from the sofa, stepped over to them and hugged them. 'Harry, Daphne, it's good to see you. You don't come over nearly enough.'

'You know how packed our schedules are, Mother,' Daphne said, and returned the hug. Her chest tightened uncomfortably, and she averted her eyes. Mother was right, she visited with her and Tori not often enough. Her workload was only part of the problem; if she was honest with herself, she avoided the main house because she didn't want to see Father more than she had to.

Mother sighed. 'I've told your father repeatedly that he's demanding too much from both of you, but he won't listen to me.' She held Daphne at arm's length. 'You look lovely, my dear; you're downright glowing. Is there something you want to share with your family tonight?'

Heat rushed into her face, and she exchanged a look with Harry. His expression was as embarrassed as she felt. While they'd done a lot of interesting and titillating experimenting during the last couple of weeks, they still had to go all the way - though it became harder and harder by the day to explain to herself what still held her back. She took a deep, calming breath.

'Sorry, Mother, but that's not planned for a long time.'

Mother squeezed her arm. 'Don't wait too long. I can't wait to see my grandchildren playing in the park.' She turned to Harry and took his arm. 'I don't think you have met Aunt Augusta yet. Come, let me introduce you.'

Harry cast Daphne an helpless look and gulped. She couldn't blame him; Great Aunty Augusta hadn't changed one bit since she last saw her and surely made an awe-inspiring impression as she sat on the sofa as rigid as a stick, clad in her finest evening robes that were out of fashion for at least thirty years, and her trademark witch's hat with the stuffed vulture on her grey locks. She'd been terrified of her as a child, but when she grew up she'd found out that her bark was a lot worse than her bite.

She grinned, and told her reluctant husband with a shooing motion of her hand to go with Mother. The look she got from him in return promised retaliation before the day was much older.

She exchanged a stiff hug with Father, and then went over to pry her husband out of the clutches of Great Aunty Augusta.

'Congratulations on your marriage, my dear child,' Great Aunty Augusta said as she kissed her on the cheek. 'I already told young Harry here that I'm delighted about his addition to our family. It is what Albion and Fleamont always dreamt about. They were business partners, yes, but also best friends and like brothers. I bet they'll be dancing a happy jig if they could see us.'

'Maybe they can,' Harry said, and slipped his arm around Daphne's waist. 'I'd love to hear more about my grandfather, Great Aunt Augusta, and I'll certainly make use of your invitation to tea and talk about him soon.'

Great Aunty Augusta patted his cheek. 'You're a good boy, Harry. Fleamont would be proud of you. You look like him when he finished Hogwarts. My, I had such a crush on him when I was in my fourth year.'

Harry flinched and wrinkled his nose ever so slightly. Not that she blamed him, the thought of Great Aunty Augusta in the throes of a teenage crush was disturbing.

'Ew,' he said, though in a low voice, as soon as they were able to leave Great Aunty Augusta and walk over to where Tori and Neville sat.

She bit on the insides of her cheek to prevent herself from bursting out into laughter.

They exchanged greetings with Neville and Tori. The two young men hadn't seen each other since the funeral of Fred Weasley, and had a lot of catching up to do. Soon after that, Mother led them into the dining room.

Usually, family dinners would take place in the cozy breakfast room, however, on Christmas Eve they'd have a festive dinner in the formal dining room, though Mother had asked the house elves to transform the long table into a round one.

Mother had placed Harry and her next to each other, but Great Aunty Augusta to his right, and during the four course meal she made the best of it and hogged most of Harry's attention to herself.

Next to Daphne, Neville shook with barely suppressed laughter. 'I guess if Granny were thirty years younger, you'd have to worry about your husband right now, Daphne,' he said in a low voice.

Daphne almost choked on her wine. 'Merlin, Neville, that was a low blow.' She put down her glass of wine and dabbed away the tears of laughter that rolled down her cheeks with a napkin. For the rest of the meal she and Neville had to avoid looking at each other, or they would burst out into laughter again at the most inappropriate times.

They returned into the drawing room for coffee. Harry flopped down on the loveseat beside her. 'Thank you for your support during dinner, dearest wife,' he said under his breath and gave her a mock-glare.

She batted her eyelashes at him. 'Didn't you enjoy yourself?'

Neville, who had sat down in a chair opposite of them, sniggered, and so did Tori, who had rolled her wheelchair beside her. Tori opened her mouth, no doubt to tease poor Harry some more, but was interrupted by Father, who distributed the Christmas presents.

Harry's present to her was the smallest one, while his present from her was the biggest one, an oblong parcel, about six feet long, and about one foot each in width and breadth. He gasped when Father Levitated it over to him. Oh well, the measurements of the present were a dead give away of the content.

His eyes turned towards her, bright and beaming. 'Is that…?'

'Why don't you open your present and look for yourself?'

He didn't need more encouragement. With the excitement of a small boy he tore open the wrapping paper and revealed a dark brown leather broom case.

Harry lifted the lid and peered inside.

Daphne held her breath. Would he like her present?

He gasped, his eyes almost bulged out of his head, and he flipped the lid open. His eyes were glued to the broom that laid on a bed of tan suede. _Nimbus 3000_ was embossed into the sleek handle in golden letters, next to that were Harry's initials.

Harry's hand caressed the handle almost reverently. He looked up, and their eyes met. His eyes beamed with the genuine excitement of a small boy about an unexpected present. He leaned towards her and gave her one of the sweetest kisses she ever got from him. 'Thank you, Daph. This is one of the best Christmas presents I've ever got.'

Warmth spread in her chest. He liked it!

He straightened and pointed towards the small parcel she held in her hand. 'Please, won't you open your present?'

She had left his present till last, now tugged at the delicate bow, and removed the wrapping paper to reveal a small velvet box. She cast a smile at Harry. 'Jewellery is always good in my book.'

'Especially if it's from Cartier's,' Tori said, who had craned her neck to have a better look.

Neville chuckled. 'With that as a first Christmas present you set the bar high for future presents, mate.'

She ignored their remarks and flipped the lid of the jewelry box open. On a bed of blue velvet lay a pair of sparkling diamond earrings in a platinum setting. It was exactly the pair she had admired window shopping on one of their after-dinner-strolls in Paris. She'd had no idea he had noticed it. Or was it just coincidence? It didn't matter, it was the first present ever she had received from Harry, and that made the earrings special, not that they were diamonds or from Cartier.

She leaned towards him and gave him a lingering kiss. 'Thank you, Harry; you shouldn't have, but I love them.'

Father watched them, leaned back in his chair, his mouth curled up and his eyes squinted in a smile. Without any doubt he was very satisfied with the outcome of his blackmail. She froze, and her jaw tightened. It was by no means thanks to him that she and Harry got to where they were today. And even though they'd come a long way, their marriage still wasn't a bed of roses. Harry liked her, but he didn't love her, and Merlin only knew if he ever would.

Harry sensed her sudden mood change and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. She motioned with her chin towards Father. Harry turned around, saw the expression on Father's face, and scowled. He turned back to her. 'There's someone feeling rather pleased with himself.'

'He's got no reason for that. It's not thanks to him that we get along. If things had gone south, we as well could be hating each other right now.'

'But we don't,' Harry said, put his arm around her shoulders and dropped a small kiss on her head. 'So, quit thinking "what ifs" and simply take every day as it comes.'

She snuggled into his arm. His advice was sound. She'd better concentrate on the here and now and make the best of it.

Not long after that Great Aunty Augusta once again demanded Harry's attention. Neville took the opportunity and claimed his vacated seat next to Daphne.

'You know, I still can't fathom that you and Harry are married,' he said in a low voice.

A pang jolted through her. Of course he couldn't; Neville was Harry's dormmate, and he'd led the resistance together with the Weaselette, she couldn't blame him that he'd expected to see the Gryffindor Golden Couple being together happily ever after after the war. She gave him the explanation Father had used to placate the press.

'Grandfather and Fleamont Potter made an agreement to join the families in marriage as soon as there were a boy and a girl of the same generation. It was just Harry's and my hard luck that we fulfilled the requirements.' She took a deep breath. 'I know I'm not who his friends hoped he would marry, and I'm well aware he'd never have considered me as his wife, hadn't it been for that agreement. However, that's how things are, and Harry and I are trying to make the best out of it.'

Neville crossed his legs, put his index finger on his lips and gave her a long look. 'No, you're not the one I expected him to end up with, but I'm glad he didn't end up with Ginny,' he said at last.

She startled. He was joking, wasn't he? 'Now, that's unexpected, coming from you. After all, you and Weasley led the resistance at Hogwarts together. Wasn't she the one who made the plan to break into the headmaster's office and steal the Sword of Gryffindor?'

His eyebrows shot up at that. 'How do you know that?'

She gave him a fleeting smile. 'There's only little that escapes the Hogwarts rumour mill, even or maybe especially in times of war. And the W… Ginny said so in an interview she gave after the war.'

'Did she now? I never read that one. Well, if she said so, she was lying.'

The breath hitched in her throat, and she gaped at him. Now he _was_ joking.

He flashed her an ironic smile. 'I suppose it's about time to clarify a few misconceptions about Ginny. Merlin, Daphne, you're a Slytherin and you know where she spent most of her time last year. Do you think she had much spare time left to make plans for the resistance with us?' He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, as if to calm himself down.

'It was Ginny who told us that Dumbledore bequeathed the Sword of Gryffindor to Harry in his will. However, it was Luna who figured out that the sword had to be of importance for the mission Dumbledore gave to Harry. Between us, Luna and I made the plan to break into Snape's office, and we forced Ginny to come along with us because we needed a third pair of hands.'

He let out a derisive snort. 'Too bad we were caught when we went to get it. I had no idea she took the credit for that afterwards, but it fits. I've always suspected she was more interested in the fame that came with being associated with the Boy-Who-Lived than in Harry himself.'

Neville chuckled, bent forward, and pushed her mouth shut with his index finger. 'You know, I never would've thought it possible for you to lose your composure like this. Didn't Miss Ogden teach you that a real lady never lets her mouth hang open when she's surprised?'

She smiled, but slapped his hand away. 'Prat!'

'At your service, Mrs Potter.' He still chuckled and leaned back in the sofa. 'Anyway; you never were on the Harry-Potter-fan-bandwagon, Daphne, and given the way you and he ended hitched up together, I'd say you have a much better chance at seeing Harry for who he really is. And that's just what he needs.'

A burden she hadn't known she'd been carrying lifted from her chest. Another of Harry's friends told her she was good for him. Could she dare hoping they'd find genuine happiness in the end? She took a deep breath and beamed at Neville. 'You mean, I get to see Harry, the slob, and have the privilege to clean up behind him?'

Neville laughed out loud at that. 'He's still that bad? Though, I have to say that Ron, Seamus and Dean were far worse. Harry at least kept his messiness to his own bed and trunk, while they spread their things across the whole dorm, my bed included.'

An arm wrapped around her shoulder, and Harry sat down on the armrest beside her. 'I'm not that bad anymore.'

Daphne turned around to him and gave him a broad smile. 'That's true; not after I've started house-training you.'

Neville's eyebrows rose up at least an inch. 'House-training? Do I want to know more?'

Harry laughed. 'Certainly not. Let's just say my wife knows a mean Pinching Hex and leave it at that.' He hugged her towards him.

'Ouch!' Neville grimaced, and they all three broke out into laughter.

Not long after that the party came to an end, and Daphne and Harry returned back to their home.

'Are you tired?' Harry asked.

She shook her head. 'Not at all.'

He gave her his lopsided grin and opened the door to the living room for her. The room was only lit by the Fairy lights of the Christmas tree in the corner they had put up and decorated together yesterday, and a fire in the fireplace.

Harry sat down on the sofa and pulled her with him. She kicked off her shoes, pulled up her legs, and leaned against him. He put his arm around her and caressed her back. Daphne almost purred. Who would've thought that magical Britain's biggest hero loved to cuddle? Though, after everything that she'd learned about him in the short time of their marriage she shouldn't be surprised: Harry grew up without physical affection; he had a lot to catch up on.

She put her arms around him, and he leaned his head on top of hers, while they talked about the events of the day in soft voices.

During a lull in their conversation the wind carried the sound of the church bell from the nearby village chiming twelve towards them.

Harry raised her chin with his hand and kissed her. 'Merry Christmas, darling.' His emerald eyes smiled at her.

Daphne's breath caught, butterflies danced in her belly, and a broad smile appeared on her face. This was the first time he'd called her by a term of endearment. Was Hermione right after all? Was he beginning to fall for her?

Her body tingled where she was snuggled against him, and once more she had the strange feeling their magic mingled. Calm overcame her, and with the calm came the absolute certainty she was going to win his love in the end, no matter how long it took.

She returned his smile with a bright one of her own. 'Merry Christmas, honey.'

 _t.b.c._


	45. Chapter 42

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Thanks again to my fantastic beta Shygui, who managed to edit the last three chapters of this part of the story in spite of everything that's on his plate right now.

Chapter **42** , 13/05/18

* * *

 **42**

They Apparated to the front gate of _The Burrow_ the next morning _._ The untidy garden lay quiet and dull behind the grey hedges, and the apple trees in the orchard stuck their bare, lifeless branches into the clouded sky, biding their time until the next spring.

The house, however, hadn't changed with the seasons. Crooked and eccentric, it felt as warm and welcoming as always, even from this distance, a warm oasis in the cold wintery landscape.

Daphne bit her lips and looked at the house and the garden with big, uncertain eyes. 'Are you sure they want to have me here today?'

Harry put his arm around her shoulders and opened the gate. 'Of course they want to see you, or they'd have said otherwise.'

Well, at least that was true for the majority of the Weasleys and Hermione. About Molly, he was not so sure. Even though she'd gone out of her way to make Daphne and him feel comfortable before their wedding, she also had been concerned for him and full of distrust about Daphne's attitude towards him.

Maybe today he and Daphne would be able to show her that her concerns were unnecessary. They had become best friends during the last couple of months. Nobody, not even Ron and Hermione, knew as much about him as Daphne did, and yet not once had she condemned him or made him feel worthless.

He had opened to her in a way he never had thought possible. She helped him deal with the nightmares he still had, though they had lessened considerably, and she encouraged him to talk about the demons of his past. They had bonded over long talks about their goals for their lives and the wizarding world, and he had learned to value her opinion and the sound advice she gave. It didn't hurt, either, that he felt drawn to her like a moth to a flame ever since their first kiss in October.

Daphne was all warmth and contentment … with benefits. His cheeks grew warm at the memory of the biological exploration they had partaken in before they got up this morning. There was no denying his wife was one hot babe. He suppressed a grin; not that he ever would call her a babe out loud, he wasn't that dumb, but there was no denying of their mutual physical attraction. And yet, his feelings for her were a far cry from the chest monster he had experienced each time he looked at Ginny or kissed her, either the roaring beast, or the contentedly purring creature.

The gate made a screeching sound, and only seconds later the back door to the kitchen flung open and Ron and Hermione came out.

They exchanged greetings and hugs and Christmas wishes. However, when they were about to go in, Ron held them back.

'Err … There's one thing you need to know.' He bit his lips, shifted from one foot to the other, and exchanged a side glance with Hermione.

Whatever he was going to tell them, it wasn't good. Harry braced himself.

Daphne's body tensed up against his. So, she also sensed trouble. No real surprise there, over the last months he had learned to appreciate her perceptiveness. 'What is it, Ron?' she asked. Her voice sounded apprehensive.

Ron took a deep breath. 'Ginny came home for Christmas yesterday - with her new husband.'

The air seemed to leave his lungs, he stiffened, and his hand clawed into Daphne's shoulder. 'Her husband?' he asked. His voice sounded unnatural high, the garden seemed to spin around him as if he was on a carousel, and he clung to Daphne not to fall headlong into the soggy grass of the backyard.

'That's a surprise.'

The carousel stopped. Daphne's voice, calm and collected, brought him out of his stupor, and he heaved a deep breath. His arm around Daphne's shoulders tingled, and then that somewhat familiar wave of warmth surged through him and restored his world to order.

He was an idiot. Why in the world would he let the news of Ginny's marriage get to him like that? What had become of his resolve to get over Ginny and give his relationship with Daphne a proper try? That resolve had only become stronger after he'd found out that Ginny had made the man he'd thought to have been her tormentor her new agent. It seemed he'd been dead wrong about their relationship. Yes, she'd been free, but she'd also all but told him that she'd wait for him. And yet she'd never thought it necessary to tell him that the bloke apparently had meant something to her while he was away …

No, he'd smile and kiss the bride on the cheek, even though in the farthest corner of his heart where he had locked it away, his old friend, the chest monster, yanked at its chains and let out an enraged roar. Enough! He pushed the monster back with all his might.

'You can say that again,' Hermione said, and slipped her arm around Ron's waist. 'We had no idea she was seeing him, let alone she was going to marry him.' She snorted. 'You should see Mrs Weasley. She's torn between being angry at Ginny that she eloped and being delighted about her handsome new son-in-law.'

They laughed, and Harry joined into the laughter. Did any of them hear how strained his laughter sounded? He looked at his best friends and his wife. No, nobody had seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary. Ron and Hermione were making eyes at each other, as always, and Daphne gave him a small hug that was accompanied by an artless smile.

'Let's go inside and greet the Weasleys and congratulate the newly weds.'

'Good idea.' He took a deep breath and entered the house, his arm still around his wife's shoulders.

The kitchen was crammed. Bill and Mr Weasley sat at the head of the table and talked. Percy and his girlfriend Audrey were setting the table, and Mrs Weasley stood at the stove and directed the last preparations for the sumptuous Christmas feast, ably supported by Fleur. The smells that wafted through the warm room indicated she'd outdone herself one more time.

A low grumble, coming from Daphne, told him his young wife appreciated Mrs Weasley's cooking skills as much as he did. He chuckled and hugged Daphne towards himself. 'Hungry?'

She blushed, laughed, and nodded. 'Very. You didn't leave me time for breakfast this morning.'

He put his mouth next to her ear. 'That wasn't exactly all my fault. Who was it that …'

She blushed even deeper and poked him into the ribs with her elbow.

Harry grinned down at her. She'd dressed simply for today, a white blouse, tight stone-washed black jeans, slip on black pumps, and basically no makeup. Despite the plain clothes, she looked gorgeous, though that was nothing compared to the way she looked in these tiny _nothings_ she wore to bed. Nobody could expect him to keep his hands to himself when he woke up to a scantily clad Daphne snuggled up to him, he was only human, after all, and she always enjoyed the snogging and touching as much as he did.

He dropped a small kiss on her head and said, 'We'll discuss this at another time.'

'Discuss what?' George's booming voice interrupted their banter.

Daphne turned around. 'Discuss what a prat my husband is. Merry Christmas, George.' She held her hand out to him.

George bowed over her hand with a flourish, and then kissed her cheek. 'Merry Christmas, Mrs Potter. Alas, you're still not ready to divorce that git and marry me instead?'

Harry listened only with half an ear to the exchange between his wife and George. His eyes scanned the crowded room, and he exhaled a slow breath when he was sure neither Ginny nor her new husband were in the kitchen.

He and Daphne greeted the other Weasleys. Mrs Weasley pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. 'Merry Christmas, Harry! I haven't seen you in ages. How are you?' She held him at arm's length and scrutinised him from top to toe, a small frown on her face. She lowered her voice. 'Is Daphne treating you right?'

Harry squeezed her in return. 'Daphne's brilliant, she's treating me better than I deserve.'

The frown on her face gave way to a smile. 'I'm relieved to hear that.' She turned around to greet Daphne, and even though she smiled and hugged his wife, the hug wasn't as heartfelt as if she would've hugged Hermione.

His stomach hardened. Would Mrs Weasley's attitude towards Daphne ever change? That was doubtful, her stubbornness made it hard for her to change her views. She'd needed almost a year and a Death Eater attack to warm up to Fleur.

He watched the Veela exchanging a hug with his wife. A whispered conversation followed. He was happy for Daphne that she and Fleur had become close friends ever since their shopping trip in Paris. Fleur and Bill had become frequent visitors at _The Coach House_ , together with Ron and Hermione and Justin and Lisa.

Mrs Weasley made a shooing motion with her hand. 'Ron, Hermione, Daphne and Harry, go into the living room until lunch is ready. It's much too crowded here for Fleur and me to work.'

They laughed, but obeyed. Harry took Daphne's hand and together they followed Ron and Hermione to the living room. His friends were held up by Mr Weasley, who waved at Harry and said, 'Go ahead, Ron and Hermione will be with you in a minute.'

Hermione's head jerked around, and she opened her mouth, but then seemed to change her mind. Instead, she gave Daphne a strange look. Now, that was weird. It almost seemed as if Hermione had warned his wife about something.

Daphne's hand in his, he continued to the living room. The door was closed; he opened it without a thought of announcing their entrance and stepped into the room.

Harry froze in his tracks at the sight that presented itself to his eyes.

A young couple sat on the sofa. The man had the girl in his lap. Her long, red mane flowed down her back in untamed waves and did nothing to hide the fact that his hand was under her shirt, cupping one of her breasts, while they snogged as if there was no tomorrow. Her hands roamed his face and his hair, and their moans filled the room.

A red-hot burning flame shot through his body. The scaly monster in the furthermost corner of his chest raised its head and roared. His hands clenched, until Daphne's hand, still in his, was in a vice grip.

In a flash, a soothing warmth flooded his whole body and raced towards the monster. It started, retreated a step and bared its fangs. However, the warmth was everywhere. The monster reared its ugly head and roared one last time, then the warmth crashed over it in a huge wave, and he felt it drowning, washing away without a struggle, until it was no more.

'Wouldn't it be more comfortable to get a room with a nice, soft bed?'

Daphne's voice brought him back to reality. The tension left his body, and he looked down at her, thankful for the distraction she provided.

She looked at the young couple in front of them, the corners of her mouth curled up. How did she manage not only to convey amusement with that smile, but also disdain about a rather undignified spectacle?

The young couple froze. Ever so slowly the young man pulled his hand away from under Ginny's shirt and looked at them over her shoulder, a dazed expression in his electric blue eyes.

The unintentional hilarity of the situation dawned on Harry, and he snorted, only to mask his snort as a cough at the jab in his ribs from Daphne. Well, who was he to blame that poor bloke? He knew from first hand experience what Ginny's kisses could do to a male, and he should be happy that Ginny had found it in herself to make a new start.

Ginny's head whipped around, a strand of her hair got caught between her lips, and her eyes shot daggers at Daphne. The next moment they flicked towards him, an almost calculating expression in them, but it was gone a split second after it had appeared. Her eyes seemed to bulge out of her head as she gaped at him, and pulled the strand of hair from between her lips with the pinky finger of one hand. She closed her mouth, licked her lips and jumped off the young man's lap.

'Harry!' She squealed and rushed towards him with outstretched arms.

'Ginny,' he said, and took her hand in his, preventing her hug. The muscles in his neck stiffened, and he narrowed his eyes. There was no way he was going to hug her in front of his wife and her husband; surely he had better taste than that. 'I've been told congratulations are in order?' He kissed her knuckles and then her cheek. The familiar, flowery scent reached his nostrils, however, the floating feeling that had always followed this sensation never materialised. 'We wish you all the happiness in the world, Ginny.'

She looked up at him, the smile vanished from her face and gave way to a frown.

'Th… thank you, Harry.' She took his hand and pulled him towards the young man on the sofa. 'Harry, I want you to meet my husband. Elias, this is Harry Potter.'

The young man had got to his feet and now held his hand out to Harry. His smile seemed genuine, there was no trace of suspicion in those blue eyes. Hadn't Ginny told him about their mutual past?

'Elias Frudge. It's an honour to meet you, Mr Potter.'

'Pleased to meet you, too. But please, call me Harry.' He turned towards Daphne, who was pointedly ignored by Ginny, and performed the necessary introductions, and another round of congratulations was exchanged. The muscles in his neck stiffened some more, and he pressed his lips into a thin line. What was Ginny thinking to snub his wife like this? No matter how abominable Cyrus had treated him and forced him to let go of the girl he intended to marry, it wasn't Daphne's fault, and was no excuse for bad manners on Ginny's part.

An uncomfortable silence ensued between the two young couples as soon as the introductions and congratulations were out of the way.

Ginny sat back on the sofa and pulled Elias with her. The moment he sat down, she melted into his side and looked up at him, a soft smile on her face.

There had been a time Ginny used to look at him like that. However, that was the past, and he wouldn't look back. His new live was good, and he and Daphne got along brilliantly -.

'Why don't we sit down there?'

Once again, Daphne's voice brought him back to reality. She didn't wait for his answer, but took his hand, sat down in one of the shabby, yet so comfortable armchairs, and pulled him with her to sit down beside her on the armrest. He put his arm around her shoulders and took a deep breath; he needed to keep his wits about himself, the situation was trying, to say the least. Holding on to Daphne somehow helped to keep calm.

She reached up with her hand, linked her fingers with his, and blew him a small kiss. He relaxed against her, dropped a kiss on her head, and inhaled the spicy scent of her perfume. Warmth and comfort washed over him.

The door to the living room opened, and Ron, Hermione, Bill and Fleur came into the room, their arms full of Christmas presents.

'It's time for presents,' Ron said, a huge grin on his face.

Daphne pulled their presents for the Weasleys out of her purse and enlarged them. Thirty minutes later, the room looked like a Christmas tornado had roared through it, with torn wrapping paper and ribbons everywhere. Mr and Mrs Weasley had also joined them, together with Percy and Audrey. Everywhere Harry looked, there were beaming faces. Daphne now wore an emerald green Weasley jumper with a big, silver "D" over her white blouse, and Harry shot Mrs Weasley a thankful smile. That she had included his wife into the Weasley tradition despite her reservations toward her meant a lot to him.

'Tell me, Daphne, what was your Christmas present from Harry?' Fleur asked into a lull of the conversation.

Harry startled. Fleur and Bill had provided his alibi when he needed to get away for one afternoon, took a Portkey to Paris and shopped for Daphne's present. Fleur had even come with him and helped him to pick out the earrings. She knew what he got Daphne, so why did she ask?

'Harry got me these.' Daphne pushed back her hair and showed off her new earrings. Her face beamed like the sun, and she blew him a kiss. His stomach gave a warm flutter. He should give her presents more often if it made her glow like this.

Fleur and Hermione had come closer and now ah-ed and oh-ed about the earrings, and even Mrs Weasley and Audrey admired the pretty jewelry. Ginny remained on her seat, the only woman in the room to do so, and said something to her husband.

'Are that real diamonds?' Every eye in the room turned to Elias, who had asked the question, and then to Harry.

He nodded in response.

Elias let out a low whistle. 'You must have put down quite a few bucks for them. They are pretty big, two carat at least, I'd say.'

Harry winced and just nodded again. To be honest, he hadn't cared about these details when he bought the earrings, he had just looked for a Christmas present Daphne might like, though the price he had to pay for something that small had almost floored him. However, he could afford it, but that couldn't be said about the Weasleys… He cast a surreptitious look around. How did they take this, especially Ron, who had always been sensitive about his wealth?

He let out a breath, nobody seemed to care; Ron was talking to George and didn't listen to the ongoing conversation, and the other Weasleys had never cared about his money.

Ginny's husband, however, pursed his lips in a silent whistle and gave him a slow nod with raised eyebrows, while Ginny's attention was trained on Daphne and Fleur, who were talking in low voices. He couldn't see her eyes, but her jaw was set in a taut line. Well, that wasn't a surprise. She and Fleur never had got along, so Fleur so obviously being best friends with Daphne must be like a slap in her face.

Mrs Weasley called everybody to lunch, and Ginny grabbed for the hand of her new husband.

'Come on, love, you're in for a real treat.'

Harry stiffened. Ginny had never called him by any term of endearment. Well, that proved his suspicion that their relationship after the war had not been what he'd thought.

A small hand pressed his. 'Hungry, honey?'

He looked at his wife. There was a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. A grin spread over his face and he bent down till his mouth was next to her ear. 'Minx; you know that I am.'

She grinned up at him. 'So am I, dearest husband, shall we do something about that?'

Harry looked into her face, and the last vestiges of tension about the unexpected encounter with Ginny and her husband faded away. He let out a fake gasp and pulled her to the kitchen. 'Woman, couldn't you have warned me sooner? Let's get you fed before I miss an arm. Move everybody, move, fear for your limbs!' Of course, that earned him a slap from Daphne, and they were still laughing and bantering when they took their seats next to Bill and Fleur.

As with every meal, Christmas lunch at the Weasley's was a boisterous affair. The table almost bowed under the weight of the food Mrs Weasley and Fleur had prepared. Harry was hungry, after all he'd missed breakfast, just as Daphne had, not that he was complaining of course, and for the first part of the meal he was too busy to satiate his hunger than to pay much attention to the conversations around him.

Ron, Hermione and Daphne were comparing Auror training against the studies he and Daphne did at Canterbury Magical University, and he added his two Knuts every now and then. Did he regret that he hadn't made it into Auror training? The jury was still out about that, though going by what Ron told about all the law stuff he had to learn and that seemed to take up the majority of his studies, it sounded as if Auror training was not what he had thought it would be.

'By the way, mate, I'm sorry to tell you Robards closed the investigations into your and Daphne's little adventure in Paris,' Ron said when Hermione and Daphne had turned to Fleur and discussed with her Merlin knew what. Those three never ran out of topics to talk about; the occasional furtive glances in his direction when they were in their little discussion group sometimes made the hairs on his neck stand on end, but that was to be expected, wasn't it.

He shrugged his shoulders. 'I'm not surprised about that. The Aurors had pitiful little to start their investigation with. I take it you found no hint to the connection to Malfoy that Kingsley suspected?'

'Not at all,' Ron said, and served himself a third helping of Christmas turkey. 'We also investigated links to other prominent dark families, but came up empty. None of them was in France during the time you were there. It must've been an attack from a hitherto unknown Death Eater, though Kingsley still is sure that Malfoy was behind it. Oh well, he'll most likely try again, and then we'll know more.'

'What a delightful thought,' Harry said, and pushed his plate to the side: his appetite had all of a sudden left him. Ron didn't notice his sarcasm, immersed in his food as he was. Harry shook his head, but chuckled wryly to himself. Some things never changed.

Eventually, the meal came to an end. Stuffed and tired, they gathered in the living room. This time, Hermione, Daphne and Fleur sat on the sofa and stuck their heads together. Ron and Bill sat down on the armrests beside their girlfriend, respectively wife, and listened into the conversation. Not to be outdone, Harry walked around the sofa, leaned against the backrest behind Daphne, and put his hand on her shoulder. Like always, she raised her hand and linked her fingers with his. A pleasant warmth at Daphne's touch surged through him once more.

From his place behind the sofa he had a view over the whole room. Mr and Mrs Weasley had sat down in their favourite chairs. Percy and Audrey sat at the chess table at the side of the room, already engrossed in what seemed to be an even game. George was nowhere to be seen.

Ginny and her husband had claimed the last chair for themselves. Ginny again sat on Elias' lap, and his hand was roaming, although more discretely than this morning. She seemed to enjoy his ministrations, going by the inviting looks she gave him, her constant giggles, and the frequent small kisses they shared.

Harry waited for the monster in his chest to raise its head, but nothing happened. A weight fell from his shoulders, and he closed his eyes for a brief moment. Did this mean he was finally over Ginny? It was about time. It was next to impossible to hide his feelings from Daphne whenever a strong emotion, caused by memories of his time with Ginny, overtook him, and he hated that he hurt her when they did. She didn't deserve it, after everything she'd done for him. Apart from that, she'd become his closest friend, closer even than Ron and Hermione, and you just didn't hurt a friend.

He listened into the conversation between his wife and her two best friends, and threw in his two Knuts every now and then. After a while, however, he felt uncomfortable hot. The many people in the room and the crackling fire in the fireplace seemed to drain all oxygen out of the air. His temples began to throb with a dull pain that was increased by the many voices in the room.

He bent down and gave Daphne a kiss on the top of her head before he turned around and left the room. Acting as if he had to visit the bathroom, he moved through the house and eventually slipped out the backdoor. The cold, damp winter air cooled his hot cheeks, and he inhaled in deep breaths. He hadn't bothered to look for his cloak, so he just put a strong Warming Charm on himself and walked down the familiar path to the orchard. The pressure lifted from his head with each step.

'Harry, wait.'

Ginny. His stomach gave a hard lurch, and he clenched his teeth. Why had she followed him? He had found peace and contentment in his marriage, and so had she, at least it seemed so to him. There was nothing to gain for any of them by reminiscing the past and tearing open old wounds.

He turned around. 'What do you want, Ginny?'

She had reached him, grabbed his hand and looked up to him. Her small hand in his was so familiar, yet now it felt … weird. It didn't belong there anymore.

He retreated a step and slipped his hand out of hers.

A shadow flickered across her face. Her chocolate brown eyes searched his, and once again he found himself engulfed in their blazing flames.

'Harry, please let me explain.' She stepped closer. Her flowery scent wafted towards him, sweet and tempting.

Memories of the innocent time when their romance was new came back to him. Merlin, he'd been rather young and wet behind the ears then, hadn't he? However, there was no way he could turn back time, and he didn't want to, either. The past was called the past for a reason.

'There's no need to explain. You've moved on, Ginny, and that's how it should be. You know I never wanted to hurt you. I'm happy you found someone you love and who makes you happy.'

'It's not like that.' Again, she took his hand, and entwined her fingers with his. 'I was so alone in Taos… I had lost you, and mum and dad and my brothers were so far away…' Tears pooled in her eyes, and she bit her lips, forcing them down.

His eyes widened. She couldn't be serious, could she? After all, _he_ had gone with her to the USA, so she hadn't been as alone as she wanted to make him believe. Was she playing games with him? Impossible, the sweet Ginny he'd fallen for in his sixth year was as straightforward as a Bludger to the head.

However, they'd been through a war, they all had changed, he was the prime example of that. Maybe whatever she had to do to survive had changed her, too?

He shook her hand off, stepped back and crossed his arms in front of his chest. 'You know, Ginny, there was a time I would've believed that. However, during the last months since you moved to the States I came across a few things that make me doubt exactly how honest you were with me.'

A frown appeared on her face. 'What do you mean, Harry? I don't understand you.'

'Well, I own this amazing map my dad and his friends created. It shows almost all of Hogwarts, the inhabitants of the castle included. It also shows the dorms of all the houses, Ginny.'

The frown on her face deepened, then comprehension dawned on her, and her face turned pale. 'It was not what you think, Harry.'

'Wasn't it?' He stiffened, and all of a sudden the cold winter air became uncomfortable hot. He closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath, as he'd so often seen Daphne doing it. It wasn't worth to become angry now about what Ginny might have done or not while he was on the run - not anymore. Too much had changed between them since then.

The heat receded.

'You know, in the beginning I was inclined to believe just that. It was obvious the Carrows had tortured you, and a few days later that Slytherin took you into his dorm room. Merlin, Ginny, I thought he forced you with him and raped you!' He took a deep breath when the heat threatened to return.

'That was the reason I never mentioned that I knew… I thought you still hurt so much you couldn't bear talking about it. However, you might understand my amazement and disappointment when I read in _The Daily Prophet_ a few weeks after you moved to the States that he's now your agent. Somehow, I can't believe that you'd give such a trusted job to a bloke who mistreated you. So, there was obviously something else between you. Mind you, I'd broken up with you, and you were free to do as you pleased during that time, but somehow I don't understand why you never told me, Ginny.'

'It was not what you think, Harry,' she repeated. Her voice sounded choked. She had wrapped her arms around herself, her hands hidden in her armpits as if to warm them, and shifted her feet, her head lowered. 'Yes, he saved me from the Carrows, but he demanded nothing from me in return. During the whole time he behaved like a perfect gentleman and not once hurt me.'

He let out a mirthless laugh. 'Do you expect me to believe that? Even I have heard about his less than stellar reputation at Hogwarts.'

Her head jerked up. 'Exactly. Have you ever heard he had to force himself on a girl? He never needed that; they threw themselves at him.'

'You know, that somehow supports my argument, Ginny. Have you also thrown yourself at him? You don't have to answer this, it's in the past, anyway.'

She stepped closer, until she invaded his personal space, and her eyes bored into his. 'Well, I won't answer your insulting question then. However, you're quite the hypocrite. Maybe I should question what you did during all that time alone with Hermione.'

He jumped. How could she think that of him? He scowled at her. 'Nothing happened between us during that time.'

'And yet it's so hard to believe that nothing happened between him and me, either?'

He deflated. His shoulders slumped, and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 'I'm sorry, Ginny, I was out of line. I shouldn't have accused you like I did.'

She still stood very close to him. Her hand sneaked up and clenched in his new Weasley sweater. 'If anything, my marriage to Elias drove home the point that the only man I want is you, Harry.'

She stepped closer until she was pressed against him. 'I told you once before you only have to say the word and I'm yours. That hasn't changed, Harry. I'm now married, that gives me a better standing, so you don't have to worry about my reputation.' She raised her upturned face to him, the invitation unmistakeable.

Oh Merlin, what had he done to her? He had hoped she had found happiness, but instead she had fled into a hasty marriage and now seemed to be more miserable than ever before.

However, he was not the answer to her misery. There was no way he'd go down a path that only promised pain and heartbreak for her, for Daphne and for him, even if he still felt as strong for her as he did in June, when Cyrus began to meddle with their lives. But now was probably not the right moment to tell her that his feelings for her had changed, not as agitated and miserable as she seemed to be.

He retreated a step and gently loosened his her grip on his sweater. 'Ginny, I told you on my wedding day that I won't do this, neither to you, nor to Daphne. My decision hasn't changed. An adulterous affair between us will only bring heartache and pain to you and Daphne. I don't want that. And you also have to think of Elias' feelings.'

She snorted at that. 'I'm only a trophy wife for him. He doesn't really love me. Just as you don't love Daphne or she loves you.'

'I surely don't feel for Daphne what I felt for you, Ginny.'

A broad smile appeared on her face, and he sighed. He held up his hand to prevent her from a reply. 'However, that doesn't mean I don't have feelings for her, or that she doesn't have feelings for me. Daphne and I have become very close friends. I can't betray a friend, Ginny.'

'No, you're too damned noble for that.' Was there a sob in her voice? 'But tell me, Harry, does she make you as happy as I made you?'

His head jerked back. How was he supposed to answer that? His feelings for Daphne couldn't be compared with what he had felt for Ginny. Mr Weasley had been right all along; he'd been a school boy when he fell for Ginny, she'd been his first steady girlfriend, and he had been another person back then. Ginny had been who he'd needed at Hogwarts, but Daphne was who he needed now, when he felt so much older, with other aims and obligations than he ever thought would befall him.

Even more important, ever since he'd heard her talking to Cyrus in the bower, he knew for sure she had strong feelings for him. She'd said she'd agreed to marry him because she saw no other way to help him - she wouldn't have said that if he didn't mean something to her. She'd saved his life, and he was indebted to her for that. He'd pay her back by making her as happy as he could, but not by cheating on her.

Ginny threw her arms around him. 'I knew you wouldn't forget what was between us.' Again, she raised her lips towards him.

Damned, he'd thought too long about his answer. Now she had the wrong impression. He raised his hands and pulled her arms off himself.

'No, Ginny, I will never forget. But it doesn't change my decision.'

All happiness vanished from her face. 'Is this your last word on the subject, Harry?'

'Yes, it is.' He turned around and walked away.

 _t.b.c._


	46. Chapter 43

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** today at the bottom

Chapter **43** , 17/05/18

* * *

 **43**

Why did that damn woman have to turn up each time she and Harry made some progress in their relationship? Merlin bless Miss Ogden and her stern lectures on the proper conduct for a lady, or she'd have thrown herself at the Weaselette and yanked her hair out - strand by strand, to make it extra painful; Christmas and love thy neighbour be damned. Right now she was not in the mood to be charitable with anyone, let alone that harpy.

From her place on the sofa between Fleur and Hermione Daphne cast a surreptitious glance at the Weaselette and her new husband. She had become more skilled from the time when she'd used Corner and Thomas to make Harry jealous. There was no way Harry would notice the covert looks the Weaselette gave him to make sure he saw what she was doing; despite of his emotional growth spurt due to the war and the potion, and maybe also because of their marriage, her brave Gryffindor husband was not yet equipped to spot this kind of female deviousness.

Of course Harry had noticed the rest of the Weaselette's performance. It was hard to overlook, and the exaggerated giggles of the obnoxious redhead were even harder to overhear. Did it bother him? That was hard to tell.

He had put his hand on her shoulder, and as always Daphne had grabbed for his hand and linked her fingers with his. However, the tingling she by now had learned to associate with distress on his part never came when the Weaselette and her husband started groping each other.

Could it be he didn't care about the girl anymore? That would be too good to be true. No, it was more likely he got his feelings under control after the initial shock of hearing of her marriage and then stumbling in on her making out with her husband. He hadn't been able to hide his reaction to both of that from her, but each time had managed to get himself under control much quicker than she'd thought possible.

And yet his reaction had hurt. Of course, the girl had planned it, she'd known that the moment she saw the calculating look the redhead cast at Harry. Had he noticed, too? That was likely, she'd learned from listening to him during his hallucinations that he was very observant, but did not always draw the right conclusions. He was most likely still too blinded by his perception of the Weaselette to look through her act.

Daphne suppressed a sigh. She shouldn't allow the woman to get to her like this. After all, she'd also managed to vex her. Hah, the look on the Weaselette's face when she showed off Harry's Christmas present had been a soothing balm on her hurt ego. Even better were the murderous looks she sent her way when she realised how considerate and even affectionate Harry treated her, not to mention that she'd been floored by the way Harry looked after the treatment. She didn't seem to like it, either, that she'd become friends with Fleur and Hermione.

Harry pulled his hand away and slipped out of the living room. Her eyes followed him, and she frowned. Had she misinterpreted his feelings? Wasn't he as calm about the marriage of his former girlfriend as he pretended to be? Most likely. Should she go after him?

She was still debating with herself when the Weaselette also slipped out of the room.

Damned! She'd bet her new earrings the obnoxious redhead was going after Harry.

Her new American husband didn't seem to suspect anything. He pulled his chair around and joined into a conversation with Mr and Mrs Weasley. No doubt they wanted to get to know their surprise son-in-law.

What was she supposed to do now? Go after Harry and the Weaselette and make a scene? Smile and bear it?

The unwritten rules of Pureblood conduct were clear in this case: she had to look the other way and ignore whatever Harry and the Weaselette were up to.

Hermione gave her a small nudge. 'Won't you go after them?' she asked in a low voice.

She shook her head. 'I doubt it would do any good.'

Hermione looked as if she disagreed, and opened her mouth, no doubt to utter her opinion and to give her some well-meaning advice. She bit her lips; she wasn't in the mood to listen to that right now.

She got up from the sofa. 'Excuse me, I need to visit the bathroom.'

Like Harry and the Weaselette before her, she slipped out of the living room, well aware of the concerned looks of her friends. She went into the bathroom and splashed her hot cheeks with water. It didn't help much to calm her down. Still too restless to return into the living room, she slipped into the quiet kitchen and looked out of the window.

She startled, and her heart jumped in her throat. Harry and the Weaselette stood at the edge of the orchard. It was too far away to see the expressions on their faces, and they almost melted into the background of the grey trees, but the posture of their bodies was unmistakable.

They were close to each other - too close. The Weaselette had pressed herself against Harry, a hand on his sweater, and her face turned up to him. The next moment she threw her arms around Harry's neck, raised herself on her tiptoes, and offered her lips in an unmistakable gesture.

A sharp pain jolted through Daphne and cut her heart into small pieces. Her hand flew up to her mouth, and she bit into it to stifle the sobs that welled up in her. Her sight became blurry; she whirled around and slumped down at the table. She didn't need to see what would follow.

She propped her elbows on the table and pressed the balls of her hands against her eyes. She wasn't going to break down and cry - at least not now and not here. But, Merlin, why did it have to hurt so much? It was one thing to prepare herself for Harry to continue his relationship with the Weaselette, but it was an entirely different thing to have to watch it with her own eyes.

She had no idea how long she sat like that. The sound of the backdoor opening jolted her out of her misery. She lowered her hands. If it was Harry, she wasn't supposed to let him know that she knew. If it was the Weaselette, she'd be damned to let the tart see how hurt she was.

'How much did you see?'

The tart. Merlin damn her bad luck.

'Enough, I think.' She turned around to look at the girl.

The Weaselette ambled towards her, a sneer on her face.

Daphne hid her hands under the table and clenched them around the hem of her Weasley jumper. Oh, how she'd love to put her hands around the girl's throat right now and squeeze until that sneer vanished from her face… She took a deep breath, mustered everything her parents and Miss Ogden had ever taught her about self-control, and forced herself to show a calm expression. She would not give the Weaselette the satisfaction to see how hurt she was.

The girl stopped right in front of her and jerked her index finger at Daphne.

It took all the self-control she had not to flinch back.

The Weaselette poked her in the chest with her finger. 'I told you he'll always be mine, Greengrass, and today proved my point. If you know what's good for you, you'll get back in your box and won't try to become what you never can be.'

With that, she turned around and left the room.

Daphne's body became numb and cold, it was impossible to move, and the pain in her chest was unbearable. She'd always known that she couldn't compete with the Weaselette … She sat like that for a long time, frozen by a pain that seemed to consume her whole being. It took a while until rational thought set in. She had to get out of here, Mrs Weasley or Fleur would soon come into the kitchen to prepare a cup of tea, she couldn't be found by them like this, it would raise too many questions…

She put both hands on the flat of the table and pushed herself up. Her movements were that of an old woman as she walked to the back door and slipped out into the garden.

The winter day was short, dusk was already falling. Daphne looked around. Where to now? Harry hadn't come back yet; he was probably still somewhere near the orchard, so going there was out of the question, or she'd stumble upon him. There was no way she would let him see her like this.

Her mind made up, she turned towards the gate and went out on to the unpaved agricultural road the Muggles thought led to an abandoned, ruined building, and meandered from there into the fields that surrounded Ottery St Catchpole.

She turned into the direction away from the village and _The Burrow._ The road circled alongside the border of _The Burrow,_ but then took a turn to the left, and lead uphill to a small grove half way up to Stoadshead Hill. The fields to the left and right of the road were bare and soggy in the grey light of the winter's day. The blades of the yellow brown grass next to the road were still covered in drops from the rain that had fallen earlier that day.

Daphne employed the breathing exercises her governess had shown her when she was a small girl to calm herself down. Her breath was a ghost, translucent white, hanging in the chilly air. She needed to find her composure before she returned to the house, there was no way she'd let anyone know how miserable she felt, least of them Harry.

When she had reached the leafless grove, she had calmed down enough for her rational side to take over. A crow croaked in one of the high trees, and she startled. It was time to return, or her prolonged absence would also raise questions. The last thing she wanted was Harry finding out she knew about him and the Weaselette. The game was not played like that; she'd been taught the rules from the cradle: she had to keep up appearances to keep her dignity.

She turned around to walk back to the house.

'Daphne? Are you looking for me?'

Harry!

She whirled around. She'd been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed him sitting on a fallen log at the edge of the small grove.

'Oh, hello Harry. I didn't see you.'

'That was kinda obvious.' He chuckled, got up and walked towards her, a smile on his face, though his eyes were clouded.

Well, that wasn't surprising. After all, he just came from a clandestine meeting with his ex-girlfriend and probably future mistress, and he was a decent guy at heart; no doubt he had a bad conscious.

He put his arm around her to lead her down the unpaved road, towards _The Burrow_. Tingles went through her body where he touched her, as if his magic was reaching out for her: a sure sign he was upset about something.

She stiffened, and he gave her a side glance, his brows knitted. 'Something wrong?'

She shook her head. 'Just a small headache. Too many people and voices in a small room, you know.'

He chuckled, nodded, and pulled her closer as they walked down the road. 'Yeah, the Weasley clan in full force can be a tad overwhelming.'

Her arm slid around his waist on its own accord, and she melted against him, wrapped in the warmth of his body like in a comfortable blanket. Damn it, where was her pride? She should take him to task, tell him what she thought about two-timing husbands, and make him choose between her and the tart.

She opened her mouth to do just that - and closed it again. What was to be gained by that? She knew already he wanted to continue their marriage, not only because of the agreement they'd signed, but also because he had his own agenda for his future and needed her help for that. All she could achieve by accusing him was jeopardising the trust, friendship and genuine affection they had built between them. The Weaselette would soon be off to the States, and Harry once again would be hers - until her next visit. What would happen between that? Would they continue meeting each other in secret? Her heart became a heavy stone in her breast at the mere thought.

Harry gave her another affectionate one-armed hug. 'You're as cold as an icicle. Why didn't you put a Warming Charm on yourself? Are you a witch or what?' He gave her a small kiss on the temple, slipped his wand out of its holster and cast a silent Warming Charm on her.

Toasty warmth enveloped her, and a content sigh escaped her lips. This was so typical Harry: he had the power to hurt her to the core, and yet he was so sweet and caring. 'Thank you, Harry. I didn't notice how cold I was.' She snuggled closer against him; in spite of everything, the warmth of his body next to hers and the tender way he cared for her helped more to overcome the encounter with the Weaselette than her lonesome walk and all the calming exercises Miss Ogden had ever taught her.

The fog of panic and despair lifted, she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. So, the Weaselette wanted her to keep her place and not to try to become important to Harry? Well, she had news for the shrew: she was already important to him, she'd earned her place in his life when she acted as his anchor during the treatment and kept him alive, and she'd cemented her position in the five months since then whenever she helped him deal with the demons of his past.

Harry trusted her; she was his closest confidante: nobody knew so many of his secrets as she did, and nobody was as privy to his plans for the future as she was, or as well-equipped to help him to reach his goals, the Weaselette least of all. The witch with a capital B had better shove her threat somewhere where the sun never shone. Daphne shook her head. A fine Slytherin she was that she'd allowed the girl to manipulate her like this!

Harry gave her a scrutinizing side glance, his brows furrowed. 'Is something bothering you, darling?'

Of course he had noticed her mood swing; she'd underestimated how perceptive he was. By now she should know better.

Her breath caught, and her heart beat a drumroll. What if she underestimated him in other ways, too? What if he hadn't accepted what the Weaselette had offered him? Wasn't it about time to show him the same trust he'd shown to her when they talked about what she'd learned during his treatment?

After all, she hadn't waited to see his reaction to the shameless invitation of the girl to kiss her, she only had her encounter with the Weaselette as proof, and without a doubt she had been manipulated by the girl. It was to be expected that he would be shaken up, as chivalrous as he was, had the girl tried to throw herself at him, so what she thought was his bad conscious might well have been embarrassment.

She stopped in her tracks, and her jaw tightened. Harry was her husband, and she wouldn't allow the Weaselette to come between them. She'd use every advantage she had to bond with him and make him love her.

'Merlin, I'm such a goose!'

'Huh?'

She whirled around, grabbed the collar of his sweater and pulled him down to her until their lips met. He followed without hesitation, circled her waist with one arm, buried his other hand in the hair at the back of her head, and pulled her even closer. She threw her arms around his neck and deepened their kiss. Time stood still, the world around them ceased to exist, and they became their own universe as she kissed him in a way she'd never kissed him before. She'd make sure that every thought of that redhead flew right out of his head!

He kissed her back as fierce as she kissed him, almost devoured her, and she lost herself in the feeling of his lips on hers and the strength of his body against hers until she trembled in his arms. She didn't care that they stood in the middle of an unpaved road between soggy fields, on display to anyone who ventured out on this bleak day. She was in heaven, at a place where the sun always shone and birds sang a joyous song of everlasting spring.

When he finally pulled his head back, she kept her arms around his neck, not sure if her legs would carry her. Harry still held her pressed against him. His arousal against her lower stomach was undeniable, and his eyes were glazed over and as dark as ink. His lips slightly parted, he looked down at her as if he saw her for the first time.

'Wow, what was that?'

'I have no idea, but I wouldn't mind a repeat performance.'

He chuckled. 'Neither would I.'

The next second his lips were on hers again, familiar and yet so excitingly new. The pulse at the apex of her legs throbbed, and she grinded herself against him in search of relief of the excitement that was building up in her.

Once again Harry was the first one to pull back.

'Daph, darling, we have to stop here, or we won't be able to do so in another minute.' His voice was thick and raspy, and he panted as if he'd just run a mile.

She let out a small whimper of protest. Merlin, was that really her, sounding so - needy? She didn't care, she wanted more of him, she needed all of him … She raised herself on her tiptoes and lined his jaw with small kisses.

Harry moaned, and as if drawn by an invisible magnet his lips searched for hers, and each coherent thought went out of her mind as yet again he led her into a paradise only he had the key to. His hand, fisted in her hair, pulled her head back ever so slightly, and his mouth found its way down her throat, nibbled on her pulse point, and then made its way back to her lips with tantalising slowness.

The heat pooled in her belly, she moaned and pressed herself against him as tight as she could. She wanted to melt into him, be one with him, and he seemed to understand and pressed her against him in a hard grip.

Again, he tore his lips away. 'Hold tight,' he whispered into her ear. His breath, hot and panting, sent shivers of delight all over her body.

The next moment she found herself as if pressed through a tube, but before her brain registered that he was Apparating them away, they already landed. The room where they arrived was familiar, in the grey light of the December day she recognised the shapes of their bedroom.

Harry waved his wand, and the thick velvet curtains closed themselves in front of the window, and blocked out the waning light of the December afternoon. Another wave of his wand ignited an Everlasting Candle on the nightstand.

She gasped. 'Harry! We can't just disappear on the Weasleys like this. What will Mrs Weasley think, what -'

As if she really cared about that right now, when every fiber in her body screamed to be kissed by him again, to be held by him… However, years of training in polite manners were impossible to overcome.

Harry gave her a roguish grin. 'I'll take care of it. If anything, Mrs Weasley will think that you have a very considerate husband. Kreacher!'

The ancient house elf appeared with a soft _Plop._

'Please, go to _The Burrow_ and tell Mrs Weasley that we're awfully sorry, but your mistress isn't feeling well, and I had to take her back home.'

Kreacher nodded and disappeared.

Harry turned towards her, the roguish grin still on his face. 'Now, where were we?'

His mouth crushed down on hers, their lips melded, the heat in her belly mounted, and her hands found their way under his new sweater, pushing it up.

With an impatient gesture he pulled the sweater over his head, his eyes never leaving her face, and then grabbed the hem of her sweater. Before she knew how it had happened, her sweater flew over her head into a corner of the room, and his hands fumbled with the tiny buttons on the front of her blouse, while his lips searched for hers.

She reciprocated and opened the buttons of his shirt, pulled it down over his shoulders, and let her hands glide across the smooth skin of his supple back and chest.

He groaned. 'Oh Merlin, Daph.' His hands trembled, and she helped him with the last buttons of her blouse. The expendable piece of clothing fell to the ground, and he trailed a line of kisses down her throat to her breasts, while his hands fumbled for the clasp of her bra at her back.

She arched her back and moaned. Her hands fisted in his silky hair, and guided his head back up, until his lips were on hers again. The world turned around her, faster and faster. There was nothing else that mattered than the feeling of his lips on hers, and on her skin; his hands roamed her body and elicited sensations she'd never thought possible. His passion engulfed her, and her body screamed to go down that dark, warm path with him.

They undressed each other with trembling hands, until there was nothing more that separated them. Sweet heat consumed her, and her knees buckled. Harry scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.

When he lowered her down into the soft cushions, his eyes looked down at her in a wordless question. She reached up with her arms and pulled him towards her in silent consent. She'd devoted herself to him years ago, mind, soul and magic. Now the time had come to take the last step, to give her body to him and to take his in return.

Their eyes locked, they finally became one. His eyes burned into hers with a glowing intensity. The breath caught in her throat. Could it be …?

He moved inside her, her body responded to his on its own accord, and any coherent thought was impossible. Her whole body tingled; once again his magic seemed to seep into her, and a faint glow surrounded them. The heat in her belly intensified, she moaned and tightened her embrace around him, gathered as much of him in her arms as she could hold. This was frightening and exciting and so absolutely right. She was where she belonged, she never wanted this to end … The heat in her body concentrated, became unbearable, and she cried out in sweet agony, his magic flooding her system as the world ground to a halt.

The next moment Harry collapsed over her. Their gasping breath sounded unnatural loud in the quiet room.

Harry raised his head and looked at her. 'Daphne, darling, I …ummm,' His voice trailed off. What was it he intended to say? Her heart hammered in her chest.

'Yes, Harry?'

'I …' He shook his head. His arms tightened around her, and he lowered his lips onto hers. The kiss he gave her was slow and sweet, and she trembled in his arms.

He raised his head, gave her a smile that melted her heart on the spot, and rolled on his back, pulling her with him.

She adjusted herself on his chest, her head tucked under his chin. A broad smile crept over her face. Maybe some things didn't need to be spelled out in capital letters, it was enough to live through them, feel them. She still had no idea about his feelings for her, but by the way he treated her today there was no doubt it had meant more to him than just quenching his desire, just as there was no doubt that he'd not once thought of the Weaselette when he made love to her. Did he love her? She had no idea, and most likely he didn't, either, but she'd give him all the time he needed to learn to know his feelings.

She'd take any bet that the Weaselette would try to continue manipulating him - them - and to be a pain in their behinds. However, at the end of the day Harry would fall asleep and wake in her arms, and not in the bed of the Weaselette, and in the end that was all that mattered.

The smile stayed on her face when she drifted off to sleep in the arms of her husband.

 **End of Part One**

 _t.b.c._

* * *

 **Author's notes:**

A very big **THANK YOU** to my fantastic beta Shygui. You all have no idea how much this story benefitted from his memory of detail, and his suggestions for additions or points that needed more exploration. Without him, Daphne and Fleur never would have become friends, and he surely made me a better writer.

Shygui is right now having a much deserved break, since RL has become more than a trifle hectic for him. We hope to be back with part two of this story at the beginning of August. I have already eleven chapters of that part written, so this story will by no means be abandoned. We just need a little break for RL issues. I'm not yet in trouble there, but I'll have to fill in for a co-worker next month and know time for writing will be sparse then.

Another big **THANK YOU** goes to the readers of this story. I'm still amazed that there are actually people who like to read my stuff. Your support means a lot to me. Thank you also to the many guest reviewers, at least the nice ones. ;) If you read my profile, you'll know that I don't put up anonymous reviews, thanks to those idiots who have nothing else to do than send reviews that are full of expletives. I had to make a decision how to deal with that, and decided not to put up any anonymous reviews.

Lastly, Shygui suggested to share with you the problems I had to face when I wrote the love scene between Harry and Daphne.

* * *

 **The Difficulties of Writing Love Scenes When You Have a Family**

Argh, try to write a love scene when your family goes on like this:

My son: Mama, is there any custard left?

I: In the refrigerator.

My son: I can't find it.

My husband: I put it into the container with "coleslaw" printed on the lid.

My son: Got it. Who was the idiot who put the frozen spinach into the refrigerator without a bowl?

I: Oops, that would have been me. (I put down the tablet to clean the refrigerator.)

Best husband ever: Keep writing, I'll do it. By the way, why did you put the spinach into the refrigerator?

I: Because I needed the space in the deep freezer for the frozen leg of lamb I bought today.

My husband: Should I be afraid?

My son: You read too much Roald Dahl.

I: No need to be afraid, it's Easter.

My husband: I'm relieved to hear you're not planning on my murder.

I keep quiet, but I'm tempted, since Harry and Daphne by now stand in front of the bed for at least ten minutes, and they keep standing there, because after discussing Dahl's perfect murder my son and my husband are discussing the use of a leg of lamb as a weapon in "The Ranger's Apprentice".

Somehow, that's contra-productive to writing a love scene. Instead of rising passion, Daphne and Harry suddenly have growling stomachs...


	47. Chapter 44

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Many thanks to my fantastic editor Shygui, who got out out of his way to edit this chapter on time, even though he has enough on his plate right now. You absolutely rock!

* * *

 **WARNING!**

I'm officially issuing an angst and tissue alert for this part of the story. If you thought the beginning of the first part of this story was angsty - well, you ain't seen nothing yet.

There will also be OC deaths. I've finally discovered the fun in killing off characters, and I indulged in this new hobby in this story.

* * *

 **Part Two**

 **June 2003 - January 2006**

 **Time of Growth**

* * *

 **44**

Five years!

Had it really been five damned years since she'd forced him to return home, to give up his dream to revenge Father and the Dark Lord?

His eyes flicked to the portrait at the place of honour over the fireplace. She sat upright in a throne-like chair, looking as in her lifetime in the black mourning robes she had worn since the day Father died on that field of honour, and each piece of her mouse coloured hair tucked away in a stern bun at the nape of her neck.

Her beady eyes stared at him, cold and malevolent, but without any sign of animation. The magical artist who'd painted her portrait had done a wonderful job in capturing the essence of her vileness; her portrait was terrifying, even without the animation ritual having been performed yet.

That would happen any minute now.

The door to the drawing room opened. The voices of the many mourners in the elegant drawing room died down and gave place to an expectant silence.

A young boy at the edge of manhood came into the room. He wore dark robes that emphasised the lightness of his colouring: gleaming blonde hair fell down to both sides of an angelic face in graceful waves, a skin like milk and honey, and eyes as blue as a spring sky. He carried a velvet cushion in both hands with a vial of blood on it.

He was followed by a man at least thrice as old, and as dark and decrepit looking as the youth was beautiful: the _maestro_ himself. What was it about old artists and their penchant for young, handsome boys?

The crowd of dark, yet expensively clad mourning guests parted in front of the miniature procession like waves in front of the bow of a ship. He almost expected them to bow and curtsey before her blood like they had been presented to royalty. Mother would have loved that, no doubt.

They had put Mother to rest earlier that morning, next to Father, and then, as custom dictated, he'd invited the curious freeloaders to refreshments in the aristocratic house on the ancient, chestnut-lined street. He wouldn't put it past the old hag to come out of her grave and haunt him for the rest of his life if he neglected to observe the social customs on her funeral to a tee. He shuddered. May Merlin prevent him from receiving the gift of that personal hell on earth!

The small procession stopped in front of the portrait. The _maestro_ planted himself in front of the portrait, his back straight, his chin held high and his jaw set in a strong line. What a theatrical git.

The youth knelt down on one knee and offered the cushion with the vial of blood on it to the _maestro_ as if it were a sacrificial offering.

He bit his lips and suppressed another shudder. Her blood, her cursed, evil blood. He clenched his hands at his sides; the urge to raise his wand and Vanish the vial before the ritual could be performed on her portrait became overwhelming.

The _maestro_ pulled his wand out of the sleeve of his elegant robes and pointed it towards the ceiling of the room. A thick, dark mist emitted from the tip of his wand, whirled around him, and soon shrouded him, the youth and the portrait from the other occupants of the room. No sound could be heard.

Impossible to tell what was going on behind that mist. Indeed, what a theatrical git. The most important point was conserving the blood with a special potion every Potions Master studied in their first semester, and then infusing the blood into the painting with a charm that was the most guarded secret of the Guild of the Magical Artists. The potion had been ridiculously easy to learn, and had earned him outstanding grades. Not that he'd ever have to work for his living -.

The mist dissipated. The _maestro_ and the youth now stood at both sides of the portrait.

Mother still sat upright in her throne-like chair, but her eyes were shut, and her chest moved in deep, rhythmic breaths, a sure sign that the animation ritual had worked.

What a pity.

Applause broke out in the room. The _maestro_ bowed towards the audience, his face now graced by an almost unnoticeable smile, and took the tribute as his due.

He and the youth left immediately after that, and the other guests took that as their sign to bide their farewell, too. Not even fifteen minutes later the house elves closed the front door after the last guest.

He let out a deep breath. Alone, finally!

'Seedy!'

His personal elf appeared with a soft _Plop._ His arm still hung from his shoulder in an awkward angle, the Blasting Hex he had cast on the elf in Paris five years ago must have shattered the joint, and it never properly healed. How amusing.

'What can Seedy do for master?'

'Take off the portrait of my mother, wrap it into thick canvas, put it in a trunk and store the trunk in the furthermost corner of the family vault.'

Seedy bowed and clicked the fingers of his good hand. The next moment he was gone, and so was the portrait of the old hag.

He let out another deep breath, walked to the small table that held the bar, and poured himself a generous amount of Firewhisky. He downed the shot in a single gulp, it burnt down his throat and gathered in his stomach, a pool of liquid fire. The warmth spread and the sensation indicated that he was still alive after the five gruelling years he had spent indulging the old hag's every whim.

But that time had come to an end today. He was free, free to pursue the noble goal he had sworn his life to at Father's coffin.

''Sleazy!'

Another elf popped up in front of him.

'Master?'

'Go and get me a Portkey to England. Book a room at _The Leaky Cauldron_ for at least two weeks, then pack my things. All of them. I won't return for a long time. Shut down the house and keep yourself available. I'll call you and Seedy as soon as I've found adequate accommodations in England.'

The elf bowed and popped away.

He poured himself another Firewhisky, turned to the window, and looked out onto the tree-lined street, but his eyes saw nothing. Warmth spread inside him.

His time had come. The days of Potter and his whore were numbered.

 _t.b.c._


	48. Chapter 45

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **A.N.:** Once again, a big thank you to Shygui, my editor extraordinaire, for all the time and work you're putting into my story. You are amazing.

* * *

 **45**

Ginny looked around in the foyer of the elegant hotel in the magical part of New York. Two hundred members of the international magical high society, and they made a ruckus like lions at the feed. She curled the corners of her mouth and twirled the stem of her cocktail glass in her hand.

From the corner of her eyes she checked her appearance in one of the many mirrors that adorned the spacious room. She looked as beautiful as never before in her life. Her dark green robes of finest Acrumantula silk and the emeralds in her ears set off her creamy complexion and her fiery red hair. She'd placed herself under one of the crystal chandeliers that adorned the room. The crystals swayed slightly in a soft draught, their melodious tingling accompanied the many voices in the room, and their reflexions strew bright lights into her hair. She was hard to overlook, and many eyes turned towards her, the male ones with undisguised admiration and desire, the female ones with hardly suppressed distrust for a predator of their species.

They were well advised to be wary of her. She'd come alone tonight, and she'd come to hunt.

Her union with Elias had proved to be just about as profitable as she had hoped: he had showered her with presents. The emeralds in her ears had been his reaction to the rocks Harry had given Greengrass at that first Christmas after their wedding - Merlin, that had been almost five years ago - and he'd made a habit of giving her more jewelry whenever he felt especially affectionate.

He'd been a very affectionate husband, and he'd been devastated when she divorced him, "irreconcilable differences", her lawyer had called it. Elias' affection for her had cooled down considerably after he had signed their divorce agreement and he had to pay the compensation their lawyers had agreed on.

Her lips curved in a soft smile. Dear, old Elias! He'd been more than satisfying in other areas, it was too bad that he couldn't see past the other stuff and just enjoy the physical; she really missed him.

The compensation she'd got from him had been the foundation of her wealth, together with her climbing earnings as one of the superstars in the American Quidditch League, and her now significant income as a much sought after magical model.

Her second husband, Zach Zaccheaus, had proved to be not quite as profitable, yet still profitable enough. She'd received the divorce papers a month ago. And so now it was time to look for a new husband.

A small comotion near the entrance caught her attention, and an excited murmur went through the elegant foyer. It seemed as if another VIP had just arrived. Of course it was beneath her to crane her neck like many of the women in the room did. She was Ginny Weasley, an A-list celebrity in her own right. People turned their heads after her, not the other way round.

She took a sip of her exotic cocktail and watched the scene at the entrance from under her eyelashes.

She didn't have to wait long. The wall of curious guests in front of her parted, and she got a good look at the new arrival.

The Ambassador of Magical Britain led a young man to the bar. His broad shoulders filled out simple, yet elegant black robes of Acrumantula silk that made every other man in the room look slightly underdressed, and made his vibrant emerald green eyes under an unruly mop of hair as black as his robes stand out in his handsome face.

Her breath caught, and an electric jolt went through her body. Harry! What was he doing in New York?

He took a glass of sparkling water from the bartender and turned his back to the bar to resume his chat with the ambassador. He looked poised and at ease, nothing in his demeanour reminded of the socially awkward youth she remembered from their Hogwarts days. He'd tilted his head and listened to the much older man by his side with a polite smile on his face.

Her abdomen tightened almost painful, and she discreetly moistened her lips. Like when she'd seen him the first time after his treatment on that Christmas Day so long ago, his changed appearance had caught her by surprise. On the average scale from zero to ten he was at least a twelve.

She squared her shoulders and put her glass on a bar table next to her. Then she ambled across the room, towards the bar. As expected, all heads near her turned around to her. She was a model, she knew how to walk through a room and draw attention to herself.

The attention of the other guests did not go by unnoticed by Harry, and he looked into her direction. He froze, and the polite smile vanished from his face for a split second. The next moment however, he was in control of himself. The polite smile re-appeared, though his eyes became guarded.

She halted her step, as if she'd just seen him, and her face lit up in a delighted smile.

'Harry!'

She rushed towards him, grabbed him by his upper arms, and gave him a small kiss in the air beside each of his cheeks, the socially acceptable greeting of good friends. The whiff of an expensive light cologne reached her nostrils. She took in his appearance in one swift glance. Up close he looked even better than she remembered from that Christmas Day.

He hadn't leaned into her half-hug when she greeted him. A wise move on his part; there was no need to give away their relationship in a crowded room, though no doubt the rumour mills would be running wild soon enough about the familiar greeting between Britain's Chosen One and one of America's top female Quidditch stars.

'Ginny; what an unexpected surprise.' He gave her a polite kiss on the knuckles, but didn't kiss her cheek. His voice sounded calm and didn't let on any of the delight she knew he felt because of their surprise encounter.

'You know each other?' The ambassador looked from Harry to Ginny, his eyebrows raised.

'We were in the same house at Hogwarts, though Ms Weasley was a year below me,' Harry said, and made the necessary introductions.

They made some small talk. Morgana must have heard her silent plea, it didn't take long until the ambassador excused himself and left them to talk to other guests at the cocktail reception. Harry's eyes followed him, an unfathomable expression on his face.

'Finally alone,' she said, and gave him an impish flutter of her eyelids.

The smile she got from him in response was rather thin-lipped, and he didn't answer. Oh, well, he was probably thinking about the way he'd left her standing in the orchard when they'd seen each other the last time and felt guilty about it.

She linked arms with Harry and drew him to one of the unoccupied bar tables in the middle of the room, aware that many eyes were turned to them. 'I still can't believe you are in New York. What brings you here?'

'Business,' he said, and took a sip of his water, a slight line between his eyebrows. 'I'm on an introductory tour of the overseas dependances of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products. I have finished my studies in May, and Cyrus thought it a good idea for me to take over his regular visits to Tokyo and New York.'

'How exciting! Is Daphne with you?' She held her breath and crossed her fingers.

Harry shook his head. 'She's got to hold fort in London, since Cyrus is visiting Paris and Rome.'

Perfect; his meddling mousey wife was the last thing she needed right now. Though she wasn't that mousey anymore; she'd almost suffered a heart attack when she'd seen her on that Christmas Day five years ago. It was amazing how much a decent haircut, makeup and stylish clothes had changed the plain girl. She was nowhere close to being as beautiful as herself, but her looks complimented Harry's, she made the perfect background for him, and together they were a striking couple. She'd seen more cutesy photos of these two than she'd ever cared for; Hermione had taken it upon herself to keep her up to date with current events regarding her friends in England. It seemed to be impossible to get a photo of Harry without Greengrass cuddled close to him.

Well, the blonde mouse should cuddle with Harry for as long as she could, in the long run she wouldn't stand a chance against her. Merlin, what a wet washcloth that girl was. She'd all but shrunk into herself when she had threatened her not to become too cosy with Harry. For a Slytherin, she was ridiculously easy to manipulate. Although she hadn't counted on her threat making Greengrass loosen her bowels, so Harry had to take her home. Pity, she had already made plans to persuade Harry to an impromptu Quidditch match on Boxing Day, and make the next attempt on him. Oh well, it never came to that, and unfortunately she hadn't been able to return to England for the next couple of years. But now he was here, and even better: he was alone.

She smiled up at him. 'What a pity. I would have loved to get to know her better.'

A faint smile played around his lips. 'She'll be as disappointed to have missed this opportunity as you are.'

Her eyes narrowed. Was he taunting her? No, that was impossible, Harry didn't have it in him to be like that.

She tilted her head to the side and let her long mane flow over one shoulder. 'How long will you stay in New York?'

'My plane is scheduled to leave tomorrow at seven p.m.'

'Your plane? You travel like a Muggle?' She raised her eyebrows. What sort of an idiotic idea was that?

Harry gave her a close-lipped smile. 'You forget that Crystal Fairy Beauty Products is a mostly Muggle company. I have to keep a Muggle cover when I'm dealing with the directors of the Muggle parts, thus the Muggle travel.'

'Well, if it suits you to waste your time,' she said, and shrugged her shoulders. Should she put a hand on his arm and tell him they should make the best of their limited time together? No, better not. Harry had turned down her offer to become his mistress twice, out of his damned honourability, there was no way that she was going to give him the opportunity to go three for three. This time, he had to make the first step.

The cocktail party had come to a close while they talked, and the guests filed out of the room to attend to their other appointments for this evening. She cast him a surreptitious look from under her eyelashes.

His eyes scanned the room; he was holding to his glass of water and made no effort to continue their conversation.

A small smile appeared on her lips. This was so typical Harry, probably he was racking his brain for a way to ask her out for dinner without sounding too eager. Maybe she should give him a little encouragement.

She put a hand on Harry's forearm. It felt supple and strong through the thin layers of silk and his suit jacket, and she almost let out a purr. He was just as she liked her men. 'Do you have another appointment today? What about having dinner together and catching up? We haven't seen each other in years.'

He looked down at her, his bland face didn't let on what he thought.

Damn, when had he learned to become that inscrutable? Harry Potter had always been one of the most easily to read boys at Hogwarts; his vivid eyes that mirrored each of his emotions had been a dead give away.

He came to a decision. 'Well, I have to have dinner, haven't I?'

'Brilliant,' she said, and gave him a broad smile, though the muscles of her neck stiffened. That had been a less than enthusiastic response to her suggestion. Who did he think he was? It was a privilege to be seen in her company; many men would give an arm and a leg for that.

However, she still had plans with him, and it wouldn't do to let him see her annoyance. Again, she linked arms with him and pulled him with her into the direction of the main restaurant of the hotel.

'Come on, I have a room booked here; I'm sure they'll give us a table on short notice. Where are you staying, by the way?'

He knitted his brow in a slight frown. 'The company has booked a suite for me at a Muggle hotel.'

Her eyebrows quirked up. 'A whole suite? I'm impressed. But why a Muggle hotel?'

Harry shrugged. 'It's practical, I guess, with all the meetings I had these last couple of days. Sometimes, I needed a private place to talk, so an additional living room was a necessity. Most of the company's holdings are Muggle, so it's easier for me to stay in the Muggle world.'

They got a table in a secluded corner of the elegant restaurant and made their orders. While they waited for their drinks to be served, Ginny excused herself that she needed to go to the restroom.

She locked herself into the small cubicle, pulled her wand out of her purse and cast her Patronus. 'Go to Madlyn Mitchell and tell her I'm having dinner with Harry Potter at the restaurant of the Palace Hotel; I need her to come over and take some photos, but he must not notice her.'

The silvery boa constrictor nodded, flicked her tongue and slithered away.

Ginny returned to the restaurant and sat down opposite of Harry once again. The waiter had meanwhile served their drinks, and she took a sip of her chilled white wine. Harry still stuck to water.

'What have you been doing all these years? I always meant to go home for Christmas, but nothing ever came of my plans,' she said.

He quirked an eyebrow at her over the rim of his glass. 'How's that?'

She put on a wistful expression. 'Mum and Dad visited us the year after I married Elias. We planned on another visit to England the following year, but separated before that. I married again the summer after that, and Zach insisted on celebrating our first Christmas with his family here. We seperated after a little more over a year since we got married. Mum was furious at me that my second marriage failed, so you can understand that I wasn't keen to visit _The Burrow.'_

Harry took a sip of his water. Was he touched by her pity story? She couldn't tell, his face didn't let on.

'Very understandable. Although I had the impression she was not so much furious at you, but concerned that yet another of your relationships failed after a short time,' he said.

She lowered her head. 'Yes, I've made some bad decisions over the last couple of years.' She bit her lips, as if to fight back tears, and cast him a look from under her eyelashes. Did he fall for it?

Harry shifted in his seat and averted his eyes. 'I'm sorry to hear that.'

Was there a slight trace of pain in his voice? She bit on the inside of her cheeks to suppress a triumphant smile. Five years ago, she'd have used this as an opening to throw herself at him once more and try to become his mistress. From there, she'd have worked to undermine his marriage until Greengrass was so fed up with him that she'd agree to divorce him.

However, she'd become older and more experienced. His stubborn refusal to take her as his mistress, even though he felt nothing for Greengrass, had shown her that the direct approach didn't work. Well, after five years in a marriage that had been forced on him he should be more than ready for a little adventure. She only had to give him the right opening.

She looked at him with a trembling smile. 'There's no use crying over spilt milk, Harry. I've made my choices and have to live with them.'

There, that was just the right amount of sorrow mixed with stiff upper lip not to make him uncomfortable. As a bonus, the waiter used that moment to serve the first course, which should give him time to get over a moment he'd find awkward.

She picked up her spoon. 'Enough about me. Tell me, what have you done during all these years since the last time we saw each other?' That was always a good beginning, men loved to talk about themselves.

He followed her example and dipped his spoon into his soup. 'Well, you know that Cyrus wants me to become his successor. Because of that, I enrolled at Canterbury Magical University in September after the Battle of Hogwarts to study Magical Economics. I had my last exams this May and started working for Crystal Fairy Beauty Products immediately after.'

'I remember how put out you were when he first demanded of you to change your plans. It can't have been easy for you to go through five years of studies of an object you detested, when everything you ever wanted was becoming an Auror.' She almost patted herself on the shoulder; her voice had just the right mixture of sympathy and understanding.

Harry wiped his mouth and took a sip of water. The glass still in his hand, he said, 'I would never have thought of choosing this path, but as soon as I realised what the estate of Grandfather Fleamont entailed, I had to admit it was the only sensible course of action. After all, I can't rely on Cyrus forever to manage my estate for me.' He put the glass back onto the table and picked up his spoon again.

'Still, it had had to be hard on you.'

'Well, it wasn't a bed of roses, but I did alright.' He turned his attention to his meal.

Damn, did she have to pry everything out of him? 'A little bird told me you've been rewarded with a hereditary seat on the Wizengamot two years ago? Congratulations; that's a rare honour.'

He had finished his first course and wiped his mouth. 'Yeah, so I've been told.'

She gritted her teeth. She had forgot how hard it was to make Harry talk about himself; he was different than other men in that regard. So far, he'd told her nothing she hadn't read about him in _Witch Weekly_.

A movement at the table next to her caught her attention. A young woman sat down at a table for two. From her place she had a good view at Harry and her, and she gave Ginny a surreptitious wink.

Ginny replied with an imperceptible bow of her head.

The young woman pulled a compact out of her purse and opened it.

That was her cue. She edged forward on her seat, bent towards Harry and put her hand on his that laid outstretched on the tablecloth. 'Tell me more about your duties on the Wizengamot. Though I can't imagine how you of all people get along with those stuffed shirts. You must be bored out of your mind during each meeting.'

His eyebrows furrowed, his gaze flicked to her hand on his, and then he pulled his hand away.

Damn him! Had Madlyn been fast enough?

'Well, I manage. Of course, there are a lot of dull things, long speeches, taxes and such stuff. I'm sure you'd be bored to tears within five minutes and fast asleep after another five if I told you about my role in that.' He gave her his trademark lopsided grin, the first time today she saw the real Harry Potter and not the well-trained Greengrass puppet.

She laughed. 'I'm not surprised. I never imagined that you of all people would like to hobnob with the stiff farts on the Wizengamot.'

'No, why should you?' he replied and took another sip of his water.

Silence settled between them, and she racked her brain what else to talk about. Quidditch would be fail-safe, but that would lead the conversation back to her, and she wanted to hear about him.

The waiter came to her rescue and served the second course. Another five minutes were spent with smalltalk about the delicious food - as if she were a distant acquaintance and not the love of his life. That topic was exhausted much too soon, and again she was at a loss what to talk about with him.

Harry ate his dinner; he seemed to be far away with his thoughts.

'You are not very talkative,' she said.

His eyes focussed back on her, and she gave him a mock-pout.

'Sorry, but I had a hard week. A couple of days ago I was in Tokyo, and from there I flew to New York. The jet lag is killing me. On top of that it's the first time I had to lead the quarterly meetings, and of course everyone was waiting for me to make mistakes,' he said.

She suppressed a triumphant smile. It was about time he was beginning to share something personal. Instead, she put on a sympathetic expression. 'It's hard to believe that people will look critically at The-Man-Who-Conquered.'

He replied to that with a small snort. 'You forget I had to deal with Muggles, Ginny. They don't know a thing about me. To them, I'm the heir of Fleamont Potter, the venerated founder of the company. In their eyes I'm nothing but a spoilt brat, fresh from university, and still wet behind the ears. I yet have to earn my place and their acceptance. Daphne said -.' He broke off, bit his lips, and turned his attention back on his meal.

Ah, now they were coming to the interesting part. Obviously it made him uncomfortable to talk about his wife.

'How are things between you and Daphne, Harry?'

He didn't look up. 'Fine.'

That was brilliant. As if she didn't knew his life was crap whenever he said he was fine. He'd fall into her lap like a ripe apple before the evening was much older.

As soon as he had finished the meal, Harry signalled the waiter and asked for the bill. She suppressed a triumphant smile. This was like in old times, he couldn't wait to be alone with her.

She leaned over the table and gave him a seductive smile. 'Shall we go to the bar to enjoy a private conversation?'

'Sorry, but no, Ginny.'

She blinked. What?

He gave her a small smile. 'I'm sorry, Ginny. I'd love to talk to you, but I'm completely knackered. I have to be up early to make a call to headquarters in London, and after that I have another important appointment before I'll have to catch my plane tomorrow. Another time, maybe.'

He got up, took her hand and gave her a formal kiss on the knuckles. 'Excuse me, Ginny, but I really have to go. It was nice talking to you.'

With that he turned around and left the restaurant.

She stared after him. How did he dare? Oh well, he'd been tired and stressed. Soon he'd be used to the demands of his new job, and then he'd be more relaxed. He'd talked about quarterly meetings he had to attend, so all she had to do was find out when he'd be in New York the next time and arrange to run into him by accident. She had become quite apt in this kind of information gathering over the last five years.

Also, he hadn't talked about his wife, just the contrary, he had avoided that topic like Dragon Pox. If that wasn't a sure sign that his marriage was catastrophic, she'd eat her new _Nimbus 3001_ from a silver plate without sauce. Harry had always avoided to talk about the bad things in his life. Oh yes, he was more than ready to break out of his unhappy marriage, but she knew Harry, it would be a damn hard piece of work to make him realise that.

She got up from the table and went to her room.

'Good evening, Ginny. How was the reception?'

She startled. She hadn't expected him to be in her room tonight. A genuine smile appeared on her face, and she rushed over to him to kiss him.

'No success yet,' she said, and sat down in his lap. 'I got distracted, but in a good way.'

His brows rose up. 'Explain, love.'

She didn't look at him, and her hand played with the lapel of his robes. 'I met Harry at the cocktail party. We had dinner together.'

He stiffened and didn't answer at once.

'I think he's miserable, and probably more than ready to leave Greengrass, though it will take some work to get him there. He'll be in New York regularly from now on. I think that's a chance I shouldn't pass.'

He still didn't answer.

'Don't you agree?' She raised her eyes at him.

He had his lips pressed in a hard, thin line.

She suppressed a sigh. She should have known that; Harry had always been a sensitive topic between them.

He put his arms around her and pulled her close. 'I've been thinking, love. You've made a lot of gold during the last five years, and so have I. We are both at the top of our professions, and most likely we can make a huge fortune before another five years are out. Don't you think it's time to quit our plan, get married and start the family we dreamt of? We have more than enough gold to last us a lifetime.' He nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck.

The muscles in her neck tensed. How could he think of suggesting this right now, when she had the first chance in years to get back at Harry? He knew what the Golden Git had done to her, and he had been there when she swore revenge. Harry owed her, and he knew it. He couldn't expect her to step back and become his meek Pureblood wife, just because he thought the time was right.

His ministrations became more pronounced. His hands wandered across her body in a way that never failed to make her weak in the knees.

She grinded her teeth. That was low, she wouldn't allow him to seduce her to get his way with her. She shrugged him off and slid from his lap. 'Sorry, love, but I have a headache.'

He also got up. A strange expression flickered across his face. Was it anger? Impossible, he had too much self-control for that.

She stepped towards him and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. 'See you tomorrow, love.'

He didn't look at her. 'Yeah, see you then.'

 _t.b.c._


	49. Chapter 46

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Many thanks to my beta Shygui. He makes me a much better writer than I am.

* * *

 **46**

Harry strode through the hotel lobby towards the entrance. As soon as he had passed through the revolving doors and out onto the magical part of Broadway, he shrugged out of his robes, slid his wand out of its holster and shrunk the robes with a silent spell until they were small enough to fit into the pocket of the trousers of his grey Muggle summer suit.

He raised his hand, rubbed his face, and a tired sigh escaped his lips. The last couple of days had been strenuous; he had spent most of his awake time in meetings where he had to watch his step so as not to make a blunder. His partners on the other side of the table watched eagle eyed and waited for any sign of his incompetence. In spite of his youth and inexperience he had done well, at least he thought so; Cyrus had seemed to be pleased when he'd called him at his hotel in Rome about his last meeting before he had to meet the ambassador, who had dragged him to that damned cocktail party.

It had been one of those social events he just had to suffer through, he'd got used to that after five years of living among the magical and Muggle upper class. The ambassador was from a prominent neutral Pureblood family that had a hereditary seat on the Wizengamot, and he needed their vote for the new faction in the Wizengamot he had been forming with Cyrus, Kingsley and Neville's help ever since the Wizengamot granted him a hereditary seat two years ago. He'd made good headway with the man - until Ginny had butted into their conversation.

Merlin damn her bad timing; the ambassador had excused himself soon afterwards, and left the party with friends while Ginny still was hogging him, and there was no polite way to get away from her without raising attention. He still hadn't Daphne's skill to extricate himself from unwanted conversations with grace.

He stepped into the entrance hall of Magical New York City Hall, which was integrated in a side wing of New York City Hall, and the connection between the magical and the Muggle parts of the city, and hailed a cab as soon as he was on the Muggle part of Broadway.

He leaned back in the seat, his brows furrowed. He had no eyes for the spectacle of New York at night while the cab crept towards his hotel. The unexpected meeting with Ginny had shaken him up more than he liked to admit, even to himself.

At first, when she suggested to have dinner together, he'd been afraid she'd attempt to make another move on him. Even though Ginny hadn't been in England for five years, she'd been omnipresent in _The Daily Prophet_ and _Witch Weekly,_ and had gained a reputation of a _femme fatale_ ever since her latest divorce. The memory of their last encounter in the garden of _The Burrow_ also made him wary of her intentions.

Almost five years had passed since then, he'd become older and more cynical, and over the last years he'd wondered if Ginny's tears and her indignation about his suspicion of her relationship with her agent had been an act to throw him off the scent. Accusing him to have slept with Hermione, of all people, had been a master stroke on Ginny's part, he'd fallen for the bait hook, line and sinker.

Not that he spent his nights sleepless about that question. He suppressed a snort. He'd better things to do when he was in his bed and not sleeping, Daphne saw to that.

A small smile flickered across his face. Daphne had become the most important person in his life, and Ginny had faded into the background of history. Whatever she had done or not hadn't the power to hurt him anymore.

However, it had been impossible for him to snub her; the Potters and the Weasleys were too close for that, not to mention that he still thought of her as a friend, although a distant one, and had fond memories of their time together.

Well, at least his fears had turned to be unfounded. She'd kept her distance and behaved like the old friends they were, even though it was plain to see that she still suffered from the repercussions of their forced break up.

Without Cyrus' meddling, Ginny never would have left England, and they would most likely be married by now.

But would they have been happy? That was debatable. Damn, Arthur had been spot on; Ginny was rather superficial and had no interest at all in the things that drove him these days. If she'd once read the headlines of _The Daily Prophet_ and the international newspapers during the last two years, she would have known he did more than just sit through the Wizengamot meetings, as she had implied he did, and wouldn't have asked him these silly questions.

He'd become the driving force of a new party at the Wizengamot that wanted to reform their society at a sensible pace, without overthrowing everything magical people had grown up with and held dear. They wanted to persuade the wizarding world that change was necessary, not patronise it, as Dumbledore had done, and like many of the Light Faction still did today. That meant advertising their ideas whenever possible, and he was their poster boy, a role he had taken on willingly. Thanks to Daphne's coaching he'd learned how to carry himself with confidence whenever he had to make a public appearance, not to mention that she was what Kingsley called their secret weapon. The Pureblood old farts were putty in her hands as soon as she smiled at them. Together, they were an unstoppable team.

No, Ginny would have been the wrong life partner for him, given what he'd found out during these last five years. The feelings they'd had for each other as young adults most likely wouldn't have survived the demands the last five years had made on him, and especially not the time since he'd taken a seat on the Wizengamot, and they'd be utterly miserable by now. The decision to stay with Daphne when she'd offered him divorce a few weeks after their wedding was most likely the smartest decision he'd ever made.

Besides the decision to go for the Horcruxes instead of the Hollows, it had also been the only carefully considered decision of his life. Both had turned out brilliant. He snorted. Another reminder that he should think before rushing in. As if five years of living with a former Slytherin had not yet cured him of that bad habit and brought out his Slytherin traits.

The cab reached the hotel, he paid the driver, and strolled through the lobby towards the elevator, his brows still furrowed in thought. As soon as he'd reached his suite, he shrugged out of his jacket and loosened his tie, flung both over the back of the chair in front of him, and went to the small bar in the elegant living room. He poured himself a scotch and slumped down on the comfortable sofa. His eyes stared at the nightly skyline of New York in front of the floor to ceiling windows of his suite, but his brain didn't register the stunning view.

He sighed. Even after all these years Ginny, it seemed, had yet to deal with the repercussions of Cyrus' meddling in their lives. While nowadays he had to agree that his interference had been for the best - though he'd never admit that into Cyrus' face - that probably couldn't be said for Ginny. Cyrus interference had her thrown into a spin, and it seemed she'd never regained her footing, and had made some bad choices in her life because of that.

He swirled the scotch in the glass in his hand. He'd never wanted that to happen to her, he'd wanted to see her happy. His stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. It hadn't been easy to see the sadness in her eyes, however, he refused to feel responsible for that. It took two to make a marriage work, and it also took two to make a marriage fail, this much he'd learned over the last five years. Instead of hanging on to the past and dreaming about what might have been, Ginny would be well advised to get a grip on herself and ask herself where she might have gone wrong.

Maybe he should've told her just that, but when he saw the sadness in her eyes, he hadn't had the heart for it. A rueful smile appeared on his face. "Chickened out" was the more accurate word for his decision to keep his mouth shut.

He stopped swirling the glass in his hand, took a sip, and looked at his wristwatch. Pity, it was already too late to call Daphne; it was in the middle of the night in London, and she'd be sound asleep. He'd call her at headquarters first thing when he woke up in the morning.

He emptied his glass, rose, stretched and yawned, and went over to the bedroom to get his much needed and well deserved rest.

* * *

A sunbeam that found its way through a slit in the drawn curtains before his bedroom window woke him up the next morning. He sneezed, sat up in the bed, and looked at the clock on the nightstand. Past nine a.m. already; he'd slept longer than he'd intended; apparently he'd been even more knackered than he'd thought. Oh well, contrary to what he'd told Ginny he didn't have any meetings today. It had been a necessary little white lie to keep her away. He'd scheduled everything that way, so he'd have a day for himself and could do some shopping for his wife in New York.

He smiled; their fifth wedding anniversary was approaching, and he'd planned on a surprise for Daphne. The poor girl had never got a proper wedding present from him, had had a nightmare of a honeymoon, and hadn't complained about it once. It was about time for him to make up for that, show her how much he appreciated that she was always there for him and showed him how much she cared for him.

Harry leaned over, picked up his Blackberry from the nightstand where he had put it the previous night before he went to bed, and pressed the familiar buttons for Daphne's mobile.

She answered almost immediately. 'Harry!'

'Good morning, gorgeous,' he said with a broad grin.

'I didn't count on you calling this early. Don't you have any meetings today?' There was a smile in her voice.

'Nope, I'm free until I have to catch my plane this evening. I took great pains to schedule my meetings that way; I wanted to see a little more of New York than conference rooms only. Don't tell Cyrus, he'd have kittens.'

She laughed. 'Father wouldn't mind, I'm sure. He was full of praise about you when he called me this morning.'

'You're taking the mickey, aren't you? Cyrus "Pokerface" Greengrass and full of praise; that's a good one, Daph.'

'Well, actually he said you exceeded his expectations.'

Harry let out a low whistle. 'I take everything back. That's high praise, indeed.'

They both laughed. Daphne was the first to sober.

'You know that he loves you like a son and is proud of you, Harry.'

'Yeah.' He sighed. 'Let's not go there, darling. You know I'm happy for you that you made your peace with your father, after the way he treated you when we got married. But don't expect me ever to become best friends with him. He's my boss, and I respect his expertise, and I'll behave civil towards him because he's your father and you love him, and I don't want you to have to choose between us, but that's about all I can stomach.'

'I know.' Her voice sounded very small, and he didn't have to see her face to know that she'd assumed a stony face, a mask she wore to let nobody see that she was hurt.

'I'm sorry, darling.'

She let out a small sigh. 'There's no need, Harry. Merlin knows Father gave you every reason to hate him.' She took a deep breath, and when she talked again, her voice sounded normal. 'When's your plane scheduled to arrive at Heathrow?'

'About seven a.m. Don't worry to pick me up, I'll Apparate home from there.'

'And break the Statute of Secrecy while doing so.'

He almost could see her rolling her eyes at him, and suppressed a snort.

'Really, Harry, you should know better than that. Ever since Nine-Eleven the Muggles have gone crazy about security. There are cameras and guards everywhere at the airports, and Merlin knows what else. Don't blow your cover, and act like a good Muggle; I'll pick you up and have Kreacher prepare a full English breakfast for when we're home.'

'Sounds lovely. Alright, you'll have it your way.' He chuckled. 'Merlin, had I known what a harridan you'll become, I would've thought twice about accepting Cyrus' offer.'

'Harry James Potter, you are impossible!' She huffed, but there was also amusement in her voice.

'Yeah, but that's exactly the way you want me. Bye, darling, see you tomorrow morning, I miss you.'

'Bye, honey, I miss you too.'

Harry ended the call, but a broad smile stayed on his face while he got ready for the day and had a leisurely breakfast. Afterwards, he checked out of the hotel, looked for a quiet corner and shrunk his luggage to have his hands free for a day in New York. With his trunk in his pocket, he strode to his first destination of the day: Tiffany's. Daphne loved jewelry, and he loved to see her beaming face whenever he gave her a new piece.

It struck him halfway between the hotel and the famous jeweller, and he almost stopped in his tracks. He hadn't told Daphne about Ginny and his dinner with her. His stomach gave a slight quiver. Ginny was the only taboo between Daphne and him; they'd never mentioned her except for that day during their honeymoon when Daphne warned him to be discreet if he wanted to continue seeing Ginny.

To be honest, he had no idea how he should bring up Ginny in any conversation with Daphne. A phone call would've been the worst time ever, anyway, they wouldn't have been able to see each other's faces, which could have led to misunderstandings. No, it was better he'd tell her as soon as he was home.

* * *

The plane arrived on time at Heathrow the next morning, however, the journey to the gate seemed to take at least as much time as the flight. Another felt eternity later he'd claimed his baggage and left customs.

As soon as he passed the gate, a petite blonde whirlwind in a flowered, rather short summer dress hurled herself at him. He let go of the handle of his trolley case and caught his wife in his arms. Her face glowed, and she looked up at him with a wide smile and beaming eyes.

'Harry!'

A warm glow ignited in his heart and spread out in his chest. He pulled her closer, inhaled the spicy fragrance that was so typical Daphne, and kissed her.

She flung her arms around his neck and responded to his kiss with an enthusiasm that matched his.

'I take it that you missed me terribly,' he said when he finally raised his head.

'No more than you obviously missed me,' she replied, and linked arms with him.

He gave her another peck on her pink lips, just for good measure. 'It was weird not having you around, you know. We've done everything together ever since we married, and were hardly separated more than a couple of hours.' He slipped his arm out of hers and put it around her shoulder. 'I really could have used your input during the meetings; I was out of my depth more than once. Besides that, it was damned boring and lonesome without you.'

'I'm happy to hear that.' She slid her arm around his waist and almost purred by his side.

'Wretched woman! I should've known you'd gloat about my misery.'

They laughed and walked out of the terminal towards the parking lot.

Both he and Daphne had got their driver's licence during their first year at university; they shared a lot of courses with the Muggle students, and it would have caused suspicion if a young couple of their means didn't own at least one car. Cyrus almost had had a heart attack when Harry had bought an Audi TT roadster for Daphne and himself to drive to university each morning, but had to admit it was a sensible move to keep their cover in the Muggle world.

Harry loved driving the speedy small car, but after the long night flight with only little sleep he was content to let Daphne take the seat behind the wheel. A little more than one hour later she drove the car into the garage of Grimmauld Place number twelve that was in the converted stables at the rear of the block.

They had moved to Grimmauld Place as soon as they had finished their last exam in May; Cyrus' argument that he wanted to have them near him during their education was no longer valid. They'd both started as executive assistants the day after, a job where they had to work hand in hand with Cyrus, and he would see them each day, anyway.

Together they walked through the long, narrow garden to the sunken patio at the back of the house. From there, a door led into the family room and the kitchen beyond.

It was a beautiful morning, and the breakfast table was already set for them on the patio.

'I'd like to have a shower first,' Harry said, and Daphne nodded. While he walked up to the master bedroom on the second floor, Daphne went into the kitchen to tell Kreacher to wait until Harry was finished. About fifteen minutes later he walked out on the patio. Daphne already sat at the breakfast table and waited for him. He dropped a kiss on her head, sat down beside her, and let his gaze wander over Daphne's lovingly maintained beds of Flutterby bushes, intermingled with Rainbow Roses and lavender.

During the last five years, together they had renovated and furnished the former gloomy Black residence to become a home for their future family. Daphne had taken special delight in remodelling the overgrown garden. He couldn't recount the many hours he had spent shovelling dragon manure on the flower beds under her direction, but the result was worth it. Even Neville had looked at Daphne's garden with respectful envy at their official housewarming party a couple of weeks ago.

Though, Grimmauld Place had already become their secret retreat before that; whenever they felt the need to escape Cyrus' watchful eyes they'd spent their weekends here.

He let out a content sigh. 'Home at last.'

Daphne bent towards him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. 'It was about time, too. The house was awfully quiet without you.'

'What's on the agenda for this weekend?' he asked while she poured him a cup of tea.

She didn't look at him, but bit her lips and took the time to pour herself a cup before she answered. 'Father sent Matty while you were in the shower. He wants to talk to you this morning and asked us to meet him at _The Rectory_ after breakfast.'

Harry made a face. 'Well, I should've expected that.' He shrugged, picked up his cutlery, took a bite, chewed and swallowed. 'Anything else?'

A smile crossed her face, and she nodded. 'You'll like this one, I'm sure. Fleur and Bill asked us to dinner tonight. Hermione, Lisa, Ron and Justin will also be there.'

'Brilliant!' His lips curved into a broad smile.

While they ate their breakfast, they talked about inconsequential things. He'd have to tell everything about his meetings in Tokyo and New York as soon as they met Cyrus, anyway, so there was no need to tell it twice. It was nice to sit in the sunshine with Daphne and unwind from the stressful days that were behind him and forget about the ones in front of him.

Harry took the last bite of his eggs, wiped his mouth with his napkin and drained his teacup. Daphne had finished her meal before him. He looked at her. 'Shall we go and meet your father now? I'd like to get it over with, so that we'll have the rest of the weekend to ourselves.'

She nodded, and rose from her chair. Harry followed suit.

'Apparition or by car?' he asked.

'Apparition,' Daphne said, and took his arm. 'I don't want to waste hours on the road we could spend in more pleasant ways.'

He wriggled his eyebrows at her. 'That sounds rather intriguing, Mrs Potter. Do you have something special in mind?'

She grinned up at him. 'You'll have to wait until we get home. Now, get going, or you'll never find out.'

'Your wish is my command, my lady.'

The next moment they stood on the Apparition point of _The Rectory._

They found Cyrus, Isabella and Tori on the terrace at the back of the house. The terrace was the formal counterpart to the secluded patio in front of the breakfast room. It looked over the park and the lake, and was surrounded by beds of rambling roses. Imitations of ancient amphoras with colourful flowers planted in them adorned the corners of the spacious terrace.

'Daphne, Harry!' Isabella's face lit up when she saw them. She rose from her upholstered sunchair and greeted both of them with a warm hug. 'You know, I miss not having you living next door anymore.'

A small pang of pain jolted through Harry's chest. Isabella had always been nice to him and gone out of her way to make him feel welcomed and at home at _The Rectory._ Though a very strict and traditionalist woman, who set great store by good breeding - though not necessarily Pureblood descent - and even greater store by good manners, she cared deeply for her two daughters. Even though Tori needed her constant care more than ever and was her secret favourite, there was no doubt she loved Daphne and missed her. Would Daphne have moved out of the family estate if it weren't for him?

He looked at his wife who bent over Tori's chair, an arm around Tori's frail shoulders. Her health had deteriorated slowly, but steadily ever since Daphne's and his wedding. He'd last seen her about ten days ago, shortly before he had left for Tokyo, and she seemed to have weakened even more within this short time. A cold hand gripped around his heart. How much longer would Tori still be with them?

Daphne turned to Isabella and gave her mother a tight hug. 'You know why we moved to the house on Grimmauld Place, Mother. I always thought you couldn't wait for your first grandchild to run around? Well, _The Coach House_ surely is too small for a family.'

Isabella gave her a wistful smile. 'I know, Daphne, and I understand, still, a mother is allowed to miss her daughter.'

They greeted Cyrus, and he didn't waste much time to excuse them from his wife and his younger daughter and lead them to his tiny study. The room hadn't changed at all ever since Harry's first visit there.

Harry held out one of the uncomfortable visitor chairs for his wife, gave Cyrus a challenging look and slipped out his wand to cast Cushioning Charms on both wooden chairs. That had become a tradition whenever he visited Cyrus' study.

From behind his desk Cyrus let out one of his slow, rumbling laughs. 'As long as you cancel the spell before you leave, you can cast as many Cushioning Charms as you want, Harry.'

Daphne sat down and looked from her father to her husband, a broad grin on her face. 'Thank you, honey, it's very comfortable. I wonder why nobody before you thought of casting a Cushioning Charm on these uncomfortable chairs.'

'Maybe because they aren't as practical as I am?' Harry asked, his eyes widened in fake innocence, and sat down beside her.

Cyrus snorted. 'Hardly. I'd rather say they don't have your cheek, son.'

Harry crossed his legs and grinned at him. 'What can I say? Even though I live in a snake pit, I'm still a Gryffindor.'

Cyrus harrumphed to that, however, the look he gave Harry was rather lenient and betrayed his pride of Harry.

Harry lowered his gaze. His stomach knotted itself together, and he rubbed his face with the palm of his hand. Daphne was right, Cyrus was proud of him and loved him like the son he never had. However, he couldn't find it in himself to love the man back, not after what he'd done to him, and not even for Daphne's sake.

'Back to business,' Cyrus announced, and Harry trained his attention on informing Cyrus and Daphne about his meetings, and all the little details he hadn't had the time to talk about at the phone, and after that listened to Cyrus' account of his visits to Paris and Rome.

Their meeting took the rest of the morning. 'You've done much better than I expected, Harry,' Cyrus finally said and got to his feet. 'I think Fleamont and James would be as proud of you today as I am.'

'And as I am,' Daphne said, and gave Harry a kiss on the cheek.

Harry's heart made a salto, and warmth crept into his cheeks. He stiffened; he didn't love Cyrus, damn, he barely tolerated the man for Daphne's sake, so why made him his rare praise that proud?

He took Daphne's hand, bent towards her, and returned the kiss. 'Thank you, darling.'

She gave him a brief glance from under her eyelashes, as if she was waiting for something more, but when he got to his feet and held his hand out to her, she let out a small sigh, took his hand and also got up.

'You'll stay for lunch?' Cyrus asked over his shoulder, already leading the way out of his study.

Daphne gave Harry a questioning look.

'Of course,' he hurried to say. If he couldn't find it in himself to become best buddies with Cyrus, he at least could make sure Daphne had as much time with her family as possible.

He was rewarded with another peck on the cheek from his wife, and a blinding smile that promised more as soon as they were alone.

When they reached the cosy breakfast room, Isabella and Tori were already waiting for them.

They sat down, and Matty served the soup.

'How was your meeting with Tony, Harry?' Isabella asked, and dipped her spoon into her bowl.

Tony was Anthony Brocklehurst, the Ambassador of Magical Britain in the USA, and a distant relative of Isabella.

Harry paused spooning his soup and smiled at his mother in law. 'Splendid. He told me to give you his love, and he took me to a cocktail party.'

'I bet you had the time of your life there,' Tori said with a straight face.

That had everyone laughing. His lack of enthusiasm for any type of social gatherings outside of his small circle of friends was a never ending subject of amusement for his in-laws, especially Tori.

He shot her a broad grin. 'You know me, Tori, I was the heart of the party.'

Even Cyrus laughed out loud at that.

Harry bit his lips, his mouth dry all of a sudden. This was the perfect opening to tell Daphne that he ran into Ginny at the cocktail party and had dinner with her afterwards to catch up. However, how would she take that? Ginny was still an unmentionable topic between them, what if Daphne reacted angrily when she was faced with the facts?

Their agreement never to fight in public still was valid, and it also included fights in front of her family, especially Cyrus. True, they hardly ever fought, but it happened once in a while, and they'd both managed to keep it between themselves. If he told her here and now, and she got angry, that would be a breach of their agreement, and she would resent that, maybe even more than his dinner with Ginny. No, he'd better wait until they were back home and talk to her then.

They stayed with Daphne's family for the afternoon. Harry and Daphne chatted and laughed with Tori, and the fun of the afternoon brought a rosy glow to the younger girl's pale cheeks. Harry suppressed a sigh. For how much longer would they be able to enjoy Tori's company like this? Should he suggest they move back in so that Daphne and Astoria could spend time together before it was too late? Tori's time was finite whilst he and Daphne in theory had a lifetime together.

Daphne was very quiet when he walked her to the Apparition point and Apparated her home to get ready for their dinner at _Shell Cottage_. They were already running late, so he Apparated them straight to their bedroom.

The moment they arrived, Daphne made a turn towards the bathroom, her eyes downcast, but he held her back and pulled her in his arms.

'I know you're scared out of your mind for your little sister, darling. Remember, whatever happens, you're not alone in this.' He dropped a kiss on the crown of her head.

She flung her arms around him and buried her head at his chest. Her shoulders shook. All he could do was caressing her back in soothing circles and let her have a cry on his shoulder, though he had to bite his lips to prevent himself from crying and venting at the unfairness of Tori's life.

He had to wait a long time until she raised her head and looked at him with bloodshot, puffy eyes. 'Thank you, honey; I needed that.'

'Anytime, darling,' he said and gave her a small kiss.

Daphne extricated herself from his arms; her gaze fell on the old-fashioned, mechanical brass alarm clock on his bedside table, and she let out a small shriek. 'Merlin, Harry, we have to get ready, or we'll be inexcusably late!'

She sprinted towards the bathroom. The next moment he heard the shower running. He followed her into the spacious marble bath attached to the master bedroom at a much slower pace. There'd be more than enough time for him to shave before she'd come out of the shower and it was his turn, this much he had learned in the five years of their marriage.

Today, however, she surprised him. He was not yet finished when the glass door of the shower opened and Daphne darted past him towards the walk-in closet. She didn't bother neither with her bathrobe nor with a towel to cover herself.

He whistled. 'Nice birthday suit, dear, although I would say that it's a bit risque for dinner.'

'Shut up, Potter.' The reply was muffled and slightly panicked.

Ugh, that sounded like an imminent wardrobe crisis, something to stay as far away from as possible. He grinned and stepped under the shower.

Five minutes later he joined her in the closet, still towelling his hair.

She stood in front of the mirror in jeans and bra, and alternated holding two blouses against her chest.

'Take the one with the long sleeves,' he said, and put on a pair of jeans. 'Fleur will most likely have dinner outside, and you know how cold the wind can get on that cliff at night, even in summer.'

'You're right,' she said, and slipped into the sleeveless blouse.

Harry rolled his eyes, but kept his mouth shut.

Daphne pouted at him. 'Don't give me that look. I'll take a warm cardigan with me. Besides, I'm a witch and I can cast a Warming Charm on myself anytime I need to.' She vanished into the bathroom.

'Says she who is pants at Warming Charms,' Harry said to her retreating back, though in a low voice.

'I heard that!' his wife said from the bathroom. 'If everything fails, I still have you with me. Your Warming Charms are the best.'

Harry closed the last button of his shirt and slipped into a pair of comfortable loafers. He walked towards the bathroom and leaned against the doorframe.

Daphne had applied some lipstick and mascara, and now brushed her hair for a last time. When he appeared in the doorframe, she blew him a small kiss. Her cheeks were a trifle pinker than usual. Had she also to think of that Christmas he'd placed a Warming Charm on her for the first time? Most likely.

Something had changed between them on that day, he couldn't put his fingers on it, but it had nothing to do with becoming physical with each other for the first time. Daphne had already been a close friend before that, but ever since that day he knew for certain there was nobody in this world he could rely on like on her, not even Ron and Hermione.

Funny enough, they'd never talked about it, though the way she looked at him and acted around him told him she felt the same. Maybe there were some things you didn't have to talk about, it was enough to know them and to feel them.

Daphne had finished brushing her hair and turned towards him. 'How do I look?'

'Gorgeous, sensational, beautiful as always, darling' he said, stepped towards her and slid his arms around her waist.

She laughed, put her arms around his neck, and gave him a small kiss. 'Flatterer. You know that you're biased, don't you?'

'Says who?' he asked, and bent down to give her a proper kiss, but she planted the palms of her hands on his chest and pushed him away gently.

'No, no, no, not this time, mister, A, you're not stealing all my lipgloss, B, you'll get me all rumpled and mess my hair up and C, if you start I'm not going to want to stop and we don't have time for that. We were supposed to be at _Shell Cottage_ twenty minutes ago.'

'Argh!'

She slipped out of his embrace and gave him a smile over her shoulder that was full of promise and made his knees weak. Why again were they supposed to be at _Shell Cottage_ tonight?

Daphne left him no time to dwell on that thought. She picked up her cardigan and her purse and grabbed his arm. 'I'm ready. What about you?'

With a last low growl he grabbed for his jacket, and then Apparated them to _Shell Cottage_.

 _t.b.c._


	50. Chapter 47

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Many thanks to my fantastic editor Shygui for all the work he puts into this story.

Updates will be twice a week on Thursdays and Sundays. The update from August 26th will be on the 27th, because I am travelling. I should have internet access in Italy, so there will be no further delay during my holidays. This part consists of 17 chapters, the last chapter will be posted on September 6th. I promise to give you at least 3k words with each update.

* * *

 **47**

'Unca Harry, Aunty Daffy,' a high-pitched child's voice shrieked the moment they appeared just outside of the wards of _Shell Cottage._ Harry and Daphne shared an amused smile, then turned to walk towards Fleur and Bill's cottage through the long grass that bent in the evening breeze.

The small house was bathed in the long, golden rays of the evening sun. From where they stood they couldn't see the sea at the base of the cliff, but the noise of the constant slapping of the waves against the stone was hard to miss.

As Harry had predicted, Fleur had put up a table in front of the cottage, sheltered from the wind that blew from the sea and carried a fresh smell of salt and seaweed. A Muggle-style top of the range barbecue grill stood next to the table in a short distance and gave out puffs of delicious smelling smoke. It had been a joint Christmas present from them, Lisa & Justin, and Hermione & Ron a couple of years ago.

Justin stood next to the grill, being the _chef_ of the day. Harry grinned; that was a wise move on Justin's part, the two of them had a silent agreement to ensure that they shared that duty since the Weasley men didn't seem to be capable to produce anything other than charcoal.

Ron stood next to Justin, a bottle in his hand, and told him something with wide gestures of his arms that had Justin breaking out into laughter.

Hermione and Lisa sat at the table, their heads stuck together. Fleur was nowhere to be seen, while Bill chased after a little blonde whirlwind who ran towards Daphne and Harry as fast as her short legs would carry her, her long, almost white-blonde curls streaming behind her.

'Unca Harry! Aunty Daffy!'

Bill caught the small bundle of energy just before she reached the wards, and scooped her up in his arms. 'How many times do I have to tell you that you ought not to run beyond the wards, Victoire?' he asked in a stern voice.

The three-year-old stuck out a trembling bottom lip, and her huge, blue eyes swam in tears. 'S...sorry, daddy. I's forgot.'

'That's obvious,' Bill said, his eyebrows knitted together, but the corners of his mouth twitched. 'See that you think of it the next time.'

He gave his daughter a small peck on the cheek, put her to the ground and sent her off to Harry and Daphne with a soft pat on her tiny derriere.

Victoire was already all smiles and laughter again when she reached Harry and Daphne.

Harry picked her up and swirled her around, which made her shriek and giggle. He stopped, gave her a hug and a peck on the cheek, and then handed her into Daphne's outstretched arms.

Another round of cuddles later, Victoire ran towards the house, a colourful picture book in her hands.

' _Maman, maman,_ look what Aunty Daffy got me!' she shouted.

Fleur had just stepped out of the house, an infant wrapped in a pink blanket in her arms. She walked towards Harry and Daphne and greeted them both with a warm smile and kisses on both of their cheeks.

'You shouldn't have. You are spoiling her rotten,' she said to Daphne.

Daphne laughed to that. 'It's more like spoiling myself. She's always so happy when she gets a small gift.' She bent down to the tiny bundle in Fleur's arms and tickled the cheek of the sleeping infant with her pinky finger. 'How is my goddaughter?'

'Sleeping, feeding, sleeping, and sometimes crying,' Fleur said. 'Though not quite as often as Victoire cried. Dominique is a very quiet baby.'

'What did you expect? She's also my goddaughter. Of course she'd be an exceptionally well behaved baby,' Harry said with a straight face.

That had both woman snort. They rolled their eyes and looked at each other. 'Nah!' they said unison.

Harry stuck out his bottom lip in a reasonable imitation of Victoire. 'Now I'm hurt.'

However, that didn't impress the two witches. Daphne laughed, and Fleur put her daughter into his arms. 'Here, make yourself useful and take care of Dominique. I have some _baguettes_ filled with herb butter in the oven and don't want them to burn.'

She turned around and walked back into the house.

His goddaughter in his arms, Harry followed Daphne to greet their host and present him with a few bottles of wine for the evening. He looked down at the baby in his arms, and a wistful smile flickered over his face.

How was Teddy doing, the godson Remus and Tonks had entrusted into his care the day he was born? His grandmother, Andromeda Tonks, had been heartbroken after the end of the war. The deaths of her only child and son-in-law had been the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back. Unable to face the reminders of the losses she'd faced day by day, she'd sold the small farm where she and Ted had lived, and moved with Teddy to New Zealand, to live with Ted's brother and his wife, who had gotten out of dodge during the first war. He supposed at some point he should really go and see them rather than just send the obligatory christmas and birthday presents, but time had managed to get away from him again since he thought about it last.

His melancholy thoughts dissipated as Daphne took him by the elbow, and they walked over to the table to greet Hermione and Lisa.

Hermione sprang up from her seat and gave them both one of her trademark hugs, whilst he maneuvered Dominique around to ensure she wasn't collateral damage. Lisa followed suit, though her movements were slowed down by her huge baby bump. She and Justin had married last August and almost immediately after that had started with their family. Their first child was due any day now.

'I'm not sure if it's still safe to stand next to Lisa,' Harry said to Daphne in a low voice as they walked over to the barbeque to greet Ron and Justin. 'She looks as if she's going to explode any second.'

Daphne gave him a soft slap on the arm. 'You're such a prat! I would've expected that remark from Ron, but not from you. Will you make such remarks about me, too, when it's my turn to have a huge belly?'

'What have I done this time?' Ron asked and gave Daphne a hug in greeting. 'I swear I'm innocent and was framed.'

'Actually, you have been for a change,' Daphne said and returned his hug. 'My husband decided to be insufferable.' She shook her head and looked at Harry with narrowed eyes.

Harry mock-gulped. He leaned over to Daphne, mindful of the sleeping baby in his arms, and gave her a peck on the cheek. 'Sorry, darling. I'm sure you'll be the most beautiful expecting mum ever.'

'That's better,' Daphne said and smiled at him.

He shot her a grin. 'Even if you'll look as if you're going to explode.'

Justin and Ron burst out laughing. Daphne took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.

'How often do you make your wife silently count to ten after one of your cheeky remarks?' a grinning Justin asked, whilst he studied the steaks on the grill, before obviously making up his mind and starting to flip them over.

Daphne let out a sigh of long suffering. 'Too often,' she said, gave Harry a mock-glare, and took the baby out of his arm. 'I'd better take care of your goddaughter before you corrupt her beyond repair.'

With the baby in her arms, she walked over to Lisa and Hermione at the table.

Harry followed her with his eyes. She'd cradled the baby to her chest, put a small kiss on its forehead, and rocked it gently. There was no doubt she'd be a fantastic mother one day. A smile crept into his face.

How would it be to see her with a baby bump? Even more important, when would she be ready for that?

They'd agreed to wait before having children at least until they had finished their studies. Well, that time had come, but Daphne was as involved in the family business as he was, so would she be ready to start their family right now, or would she want to work in the company for a couple of years?

'Oy, ground control to Major Tom,' Justin's voice interrupted his thoughts.

'Uh?' Yanked out of his daydream, he turned to his friend.

'Ground what to who?' Ron asked at the same time.

'It's a Muggle term,' Justin said. He jerked his thumb to Ron. 'Actually, Ron tried to get your attention, but you were completely zoned out while you admired your wife with your goddaughter.' He gave Harry a knowing grin.

Harry's cheeks grew warm. 'What do you want, Ron?'

Ron took a swig out of his bottle. 'It happened while you were abroad, but I think you need to know, mate. Lucius Malfoy applied for probation after having served half of his sentence. 'Course he got denied, and was pretty pissed 'bout that. There's no saying with what he'll come up to get back at you, Harry.'

Harry bent down toward the bucket next to the barbeque that was filled with ice and an assortment of bottles, pulling out a bottle of Butterbeer for himself.

'I don't agree, Ron,' he said. 'Even though Lucius made threats against the Greengrass family and me, you never found any evidence that he was behind the attack on Daphne and me in Paris. That was almost five years ago, and nothing happened since then. I think it's rather far fetched to assume he'd attack us now, just because his probation has been denied.'

Ron opened his mouth as if he wanted to disagree, but was interrupted by Justin, who handed him a plate with steaks piled up high. 'Here, make yourself somewhat useful and take them to the table.'

Ron's face lit up at the prospect of imminent food, grabbed the plate, and carried it to the table as if there were the crown jewels of Britain on it.

Harry and Justin shared a grin and followed him to the table.

As always when the eight friends met, there was a lot of talk and laughter. Ron piled his plate with food and obviously forgot his worries about Lucius Malfoy and the threat he might pose over his dinner.

Harry sighed to himself. If only he could let go of his worries as easily. Ron's warning bothered him more than he liked to admit.

He cast a surreptitious glance at the young woman by his side. She still had Dominique in one arm and ate with the other hand, while she chatted with Lisa and Fleur about their experiences during their pregnancies.

His heart made a flip-flop. Daphne asked her friends a lot of detailed questions. Did that mean she was considering starting a family?

Harry's chest tightened, and he clutched his hands around his cutlery as unthinkable concerns entered his head: what if Lucius Malfoy chose right now to try and get his revenge by attacking Daphne? His heart thudded in his chest; he'd be devastated if something happened to her, she'd become an integral part of his life, and he couldn't imagine living without her, especially not now, when it seemed as if everything they had planned together and dreamed about was finally going to become reality.

He took a calming breath. Nothing would be gained if he started to panic. Common sense told him that it was nigh on impossible for Lucius Malfoy to stage an attack from Azkaban. These days the Malfoys were as good as broke, and all the "business connections" they might have had at one point were keeping Lucius company in Azkaban. Draco, unable to live of the family wealth or obtain a honourable occupation, thanks to the reputation he had earned himself during the war, had become a petty criminal. He hadn't the connections to stage an attack on them to revenge his father - or did he?

He shook his head. No, even if Malfoy had the means, he'd never have the guts to kill someone.

'How was New York?' Hermione's question startled him out of his thoughts.

He grinned at her across the table. 'Big, crowded and noisy.'

She rolled her eyes at him. 'Only you, Harry, could stay in one of the most exciting cities of the world and have nothing to tell.'

'That's because I haven't,' he said, and pulled a bowl with potato salad towards him to get himself another helping. 'I wasn't there for fun. Most of my time was spent in conference rooms and meetings.'

Of course she at once caught on to what he had omitted. 'And what's about the rest of your time?'

'Sleeping and eating.' He grinned at her between ladling spoonfuls of salad onto his plate. 'Though I went to a cocktail party and spent the last day doing some personal errands.' He pushed the bowl back on its place, and again his eyes wandered to Daphne.

Hermione chuckled. 'I think I know what that was.' She took a sip of her wine. 'You're such a devoted husband, Harry. Daphne is one lucky witch.'

He squirmed at her words and lowered his eyes. Was he? He surely tried to do right by Daphne; she didn't deserve anything less, after everything she'd done for him; she was his closest ally and fiercest supporter, and he cared for her. Very much, actually.

And yet he still hadn't told her about Ginny …

He sighed, slipped his wand out of its holster for an inch, and cast a silent Privacy Spell around Hermione and himself.

'I ran into Ginny in New York,' he said under the cover of the spell. 'We had dinner with each other.'

Hermione froze; her hand with her glass of wine stopped midway between her mouth and the table. She put the glass back on the table in a very slow and deliberate move, while she cast him a strange look. 'Was that all you did with her?'

What the -. Then the meaning of her words hit him. Heat shot into his cheeks. 'Of course! What do you think of me, Hermione? I'm a married man!'

She pressed her lips together. 'That's a reason, Harry, but not an impassable obstacle for some.'

His hand clenched around the bottle of Butterbeer next to his plate, and he cast her a dirty look. 'Well, to me it is. All we did was talk. She's not happy at the moment.'

'You've heard about her last divorce?'

'Yeah, she told me about that. She seemed to be rather depressed about it, too, though I had the impression -' He interrupted himself, bit his lower lip, and studied the label on the bottle as if it was the most interesting thing on earth.

'That she still wants you?' Hermione asked. He didn't need to see her face to know she was frowning, her voice dripped with disapproval.

He jerked his head up. 'What? Merlin, no, she did nothing to give me that impression.' At least she'd done nothing as outspoken as during their last encounter in the orchard. Had she given him small, covert hints that she still was interested in him? He snorted. How was he supposed to know? He'd always been pants at understanding the hidden signals girls gave him, almost five years of marriage hadn't changed that in the slightest.

He harrumphed and fidgeted with his bottle, before he said, 'I had the impression she's still suffering from what happened five years ago. She said she made a few poor choices because of that.'

The frown on Hermione's face became even deeper. 'That's a long time to cry over spilled milk.'

Harry nodded. 'That's exactly what I thought.' He raised his bottle, took a swig and lowered the bottle halfway to the table. 'Besides that, you are also married now, Hermione, though only for a couple of weeks instead of years like Daphne and I. But you've been with Ron for years, by now you should know that a relationship isn't always sunshine and happiness, and that it takes two to make it work. Ginny, I'm afraid, hasn't caught on that yet. Actually, she threw kind of a pity-party for herself and expected me to commiserate with her.' He took another swig out of his bottle.

Hermione's brows shot up. 'And did you?'

He shook his head. 'I couldn't find it in myself. However, I couldn't tell her to get a grip on herself and grow up, either, so -'

'So you chickened out?' Hermione asked, a knowing smile on her face.

Harry laughed. 'You know me too well. She wanted to spend some more time together at the bar and talk, but I told her I was knackered, which wasn't a lie, by the way, and went back to my hotel - alone.'

The smile on Hermione's face became broader. 'Good for you. Have you told Daphne about that encounter?'

'No, there hasn't been the right moment yet.'

Hermione sobered and she reached with her hand across the table and put it on his. 'You ought to tell her, Harry, and soon, this isn't something you want getting back to her some other way.'

He nodded, Hermione confirmed his thoughts on the Ginny-problem, but there hadn't been the time for a lengthy and undisturbed talk for him and Daphne yet. Oh, well, they still had the rest of the weekend to themselves, he'd talk to her tomorrow.

Daphne's hand on his arm caught his attention, and he turned towards her.

She grinned up at him. 'Are you two conspiring to take over the world?'

Harry laughed and cancelled the Privacy Charm. 'Nothing that exciting. Just some private talk among old friends.' Warmth crept into his cheeks. What if Daphne wanted to know what they had talked about?

Hermione, Merlin bless her, came to his rescue. 'I told Harry how queasy I am for the upcoming recruitment tests at Crystal Fairy's on Monday.'

Daphne laughed and adjusted Dominique on her arm. 'You have nothing to worry about, Hermione. You had the highest results in a Potions Mastery since Professor Snape. If the Ministry can't appreciate your genius, Crystal Fairy can. The contribution an employee makes to the success of our company has always been more important to us than blood status.'

However, Hermione worried her lower lip between her teeth and gave Daphne a doubtful glance. 'If you say so.'

Harry sighed, he surely couldn't fault Hermione for her doubts. She had finished her N.E.W.T.s with straight Os in all her chosen objects, and had immediately started a Potions Mastery at Canterbury Magical University a year after them. The three years at university together with Daphne and Hermione had been one of the best times of his life. She had finished her mastery in record time a year ago, and once again with top grades.

Kingsley had been only too happy to recruit her into the Ministry, and as one of that years top recruits had given her a free choice in which department she wanted to work. Hermione had set her heart on the Department of Mysteries.

And that was when the trouble started.

The head of the department, though no Death Eater, was a staunch supporter of Pureblood Supremacy. As of yet, Kingsley had found no reason to remove the man from his position; though a former Ravenclaw, he was too cunning to give the Minister of Magic a reason to fire him. He'd taken it as a personal offence that Kingsley forced a Mudblood on him - all of the other, hand-picked employees of the Department of Mysteries were Purebloods, or at least Halfbloods with best connections all over the magical society.

It didn't help at all that Hermione's professional abilities outshone many the other members of the department, the head included, or that she was best friends with the Chosen One and engaged to Ronald Weasley, the rising star in the Auror Department. He'd resented her even more for that and made her life hell in such insidious ways that made it hard to nigh on impossible to finger him as the perpetrator.

Hermione had become deeply unhappy and reserved, drawing back into herself in a way that reminded Harry of the friendless eleven year old girl she had been once, but she was determined not to budge. He and Daphne had had a hard time to persuade her to send in her application to Crystal Fairy's, Harry had felt like hexing her on more than one occasion due to obstinance. When she had finally relented and sent in her application, Cyrus had taken all of about ten minutes before he agreed with them that she'd be a valuable asset for the magical part of the company. They all had no doubt she'd get one of the three positions they had to fill.

'I told you I agree with Daphne. Just you wait and see, you'll sail through the tests with flying colours,' he said to his friend, and she shot him a thankful smile.

Lisa demanded Hermione's attention with a question, and the conversation changed to other topics.

As always when the friends met, they had a much too good time to part soon, and it was already well after midnight when Harry Apparated himself and Daphne home. It had been another long day for him, after a night with little sleep, and he was out like a light as soon as his head touched the pillow.

* * *

When he woke up the next morning, the sun already was high in the sky, and the bed beside him was cold and empty. He got out of bed, showered, dressed, and then went downstairs in search of his missing wife.

He entered the bright and airy family room. With its light, cheerful colours, comfortable chairs and sofa, shelves filled with books, and dozens of pictures of family and friends on the walls and on the mantlepiece of the fireplace it was his favourite room in the house.

However, the cranky wails of a baby made him stop in his tracks.

Daphne sat on the sofa, a clearly unhappy Dominique in her arm, and gave him an almost desperate look over the baby's head.

'Good morning.' He sat down beside Daphne on the red leather couch, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and tickled his goddaughter with a finger. 'And to what do we owe the honour of a visit by Her Ungraciousness?'

Daphne laughed, albeit rather strained, and kissed him back. 'It's rather good afternoon, sleepyhead. I had lunch already.'

'Oh... you should've woken me up.'

'You needed your sleep; I know you too well, Potter, you've been pushing yourself whilst you were away: you had your own carry on luggage under your eyes.' Daphne shook her head. 'To answer your question, Lisa went into labour early this morning, and since Fleur had agreed to support her during that time, it was up to Bill to take care of his daughters today. Unfortunately, Victoire seems to have caught a bug, and he has his hands full with her. I got an emergency Floocall around eight if I'd take Dominique today. Molly and Arthur are still in Romania, visiting with Charlie.'

'And of course you said yes,' Harry said and tickled Dominique once again. 'It'll be nice to have some bonding time with our goddaughter.'

Daphne gave him a wry side glance. 'Let's see if you'll still say that tonight. The little miss realises that something is out of the order, and has been fussy and weepy all morning long. I've tried to get her to sleep in her pram, but she insists to stay on my arm. You miss your mummy, my precious, don't you?' She dropped a kiss on the downy head at her shoulder.

Harry's eyebrows rose up. 'So, you're a demanding young lady, are you Miss Weasley?' he asked the baby in Daphne's arm.

Dominique turned her head into the direction of his voice, sucked at her tiny fist, and let out a mournful low wail.

'I'll take that as a yes,' Harry said with grin. He scooted nearer to his wife and put his arm around her shoulder. 'Since it doesn't look as if we're going to go anywhere today, there's something I've been meaning to talk about to you.' His heart beat a drumroll. It was now or never, he had to tell Daphne about his encounter with Ginny, or it would be too late.

She turned her head and gave him a look with raised eyebrows. 'And that is?'

'Well, while I was in New York -'

He didn't get farther. Dominique chose that moment to let out a few short cries, like an engine sputtering to life, and then a deafening wail followed.

Daphne looked at her wristwatch. 'Uh oh, seems this little one's hungry; it's almost her afternoon feeding time. Sorry, honey, but whatever it is you want to talk about, it has to wait. Her Highness comes first.'

She shifted the wailing infant on her arm, slipped out her wand and Summoned a bottle with milk from a bag that sat on the window seat.

'At least Fleur has left enough milk to get her through the day. Lisa surely wouldn't appreciate it if I barged in on them right now so that Fleur can breastfeed her daughter,' she said while she dipped the bottle and let a drop of milk fall on the inside of her wrist to test the temperature. Satisfied with the result, she tickled the corner of Dominique's mouth with the tip of the teat.

The wailing stopped immediately. Dominique turned her tiny head, snatched for the teat with an audible snap of her mouth, and began sucking, puffing and blowing, while one of her pudgy legs pumped in sync with her sucks.

Harry and Daphne looked at each other and shared a smile, and then looked down at their contentedly feeding goddaughter again.

Harry's heart grew warm. That was a sight he could get used to. How would it be to watch Daphne feed their own baby?

Daphne turned her head and blew him a kiss. There was a soft smile around her lips, and her eyes beamed at him. Had she somehow learned Legilimency?

However, that were the last peaceful minutes they had that day. Dominique turned out to be a very difficult and demanding visitor. She refused to stay in her pram, and would start to wail the moment they tried to put her down for a nap.

They took turns carrying the infant in their arms all day long, and rocking and singing her to sleep in their arms. Even then, Dominique would be fitful and restless.

Dinner was already a memory, and the sun went down behind the tall houses of Grimmauld Place when the Floo in the family room flared up.

Harry had just managed to persuade Dominique to take a nap on his shoulder. At the sound of the roaring Floo, however, the baby startled and began wailing once again.

Harry clenched his teeth. Whoever called, they'd better had a very good reason.

Daphne gave him an understanding glance and got up to answer the call.

Justin's beaming face appeared in the green flames. 'It's a boy! Richard Henry Finch-Fletchley arrived one hour ago. Lisa's tired, but alright.'

'Oh, Justin, that's wonderful news! Congratulations! Please, give Lisa our congratulations,' Daphne said with a broad smile.

'I will,' Justin said. 'By the way, Fleur said she'll go home any minute now, so you can drop Dominique at _Shell Cottage.'_

'Alright; thank you for informing us, Justin, and congratulations again.'

Justin gave her another grin and withdrew his head. The flames died down.

Daphne got to her feet. Her face beamed. 'Isn't that wonderful news? I'm so happy for Lisa and Justin.' She began to gather Dominique's things that had spread themselves across the family room during the day.

'Yeah, it's wonderful,' Harry agreed, and rocked a still whining Dominique in his arms.

His wife flicked her wand, Banished Dominique's things to _Shell Cottage_ with a silent spell, and let out a huge yawn while she stashed her wand away.

Harry got to his feet, the baby on his arm, stepped to Daphne and gave her a kiss. 'Go to sleep, darling. I'll take Dominique home and will be back in a few minutes.'

She gave him a thankful, but tired smile in return, kissed Dominique's cheek and left the room.

'Kreacher,' Harry called.

The ancient house elf appeared immediately.

'Please, take us to _Shell Cottage._ '

Apparition by elf was still the most comfortable means of magical travel, and as cranky as Dominique was, he didn't want to make it worse by Flooing her back home or Apparating with her. Merlin knew Bill and Fleur wouldn't thank him for that; they both had had a hard day after a short night of sleep.

As he'd predicted, a hollow-eyed Fleur took Dominique from him and thanked him, while he could hear Bill talking to Victoire upstairs.

Five minutes later, he was back home in their bedroom. The room was almost the exact copy of their bedroom back at _The Coach House._ Harry looked towards the bed; the duvet was pulled back, but Daphne wasn't there.

His eyebrows went up. 'Daphne?'

'I'm in here.' Her voice came from the direction of the bathroom, and he walked over and leaned against the doorframe.

She stood in front of her opened bathroom cabinet, where she used to keep her makeup and her Contraceptive Potions, and eyed the neat row of vials with a slight furrow between her brows and a mysterious smile around her lips. When she heard him enter, she turned around and gave him an impish smile, and there was a light in her eyes he'd never seen before.

His heartbeat sped up. What was that about?

She slid her wand out of the holster on her wrist. 'I think we don't need them anymore, or what do you think, honey?' A flick of her wand Vanished the neat row of Contraceptive Potions.

The breath caught in Harry's throat, his heart made a flip-flop, and a huge smile crept on his face. He stepped towards Daphne and took her in his arms.

'You're right, we don't need them anymore,' he said, and kissed her.

 _t.b.c._


	51. Chapter 48

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** As always, kudos to my fantastic beta Shygui, who also happens to be one of my favourite authors. If you haven't read his new, fairytale-like story _**A Pearl of Great Price**_ yet, do it now, it is worth it.

* * *

 **48**

The alarm clock rang much, much too early on Monday morning.

Harry groaned and stretched out his arm to stop the offending noise. That was no small feat; Daphne was spread across him, her head tucked under his chin, and her hair tickled his face.

She stirred and muttered something unintelligible.

He gave a small chuckle. 'Good morning, darling,' he said, and dropped a kiss on her head.

'It's too early for a good morning,' the sourpuss on his chest replied.

Harry grinned; she was adorable when she was all sleepy and grumpy. He caressed her bare back with his hands, and she moaned and snuggled up closer. Of course, that at once elicited a reaction from his still awakening body.

Daphne raised her head, grinned at him and let her wand slip out of the holster she still carried all around the clock. 'How much value do you place on your breakfast this morning?' she asked, and cast a silent Breath Refreshing Charm on them.

'Why do I have the impression there's only one possible answer?' he replied, and kissed her.

* * *

Of course, he and Daphne were the last to arrive at the conference room of the magical department of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products that morning.

Dennis Pince, the director of the Department for Magical Research and Development, greeted them with a frown and a pointed look on his wristwatch. However, the old stickler had no real reason to complain, the big clock in the conference room showed that there was still a minute until the appointed time for the beginning of the recruitment tests.

They sat down side by side, next to Director Pince. Harry looked at the three rows of hopefuls opposite of them.

Hermione sat in the front row, together with two other witches who had applied for the job. One of them looked familiar. She'd been in Hogwarts, a couple of years ahead of them, though neither in Gryffindor nor in Slytherin, Patience or Penny something … He almost slapped his forehead with his hand when the name came back to him; Penelope Clearwater, Percy's former girlfriend.

He gave Hermione an imperceptible nod, and she reciprocated with a small smile and a covert rolling of her eyes. She and Pince would understand each other, both were sticklers for punctuality.

Harry listened how Daphne greeted the job applicants and explained the schedule of the day. She was doing an internship with the director of the Department for Magical Personnel Management at the moment, and he'd been happy to delegate the lead of today's recruitment tests to her.

Harry was there as a representative of the executive board, his vote would decide if Daphne and Pince couldn't agree on a candidate.

He took a look at the candidates in the second row. The rest of the job applicants were male, and he had to bite on the inside of his cheeks and suppress a groan when he recognised Cormac McLaggen among them.

They began with the first part of the testing, a multiple choice test to determine the proficiency of the applicants with the kind of potions they'd have to deal with, and their knowledge about magical potion ingredients used in Beauty Potions. The test lasted for an hour, after that the applicants had a short break in the coffee lounge outside of the conference room, while Pince, Daphne and he remained in the room and analysed the results with the help of the answering scheme.

'Well, it seems we have clear winners and losers here,' Daphne said, and wrote down the results of the last applicant into a list on a sheet of parchment in front of her. 'There are four Potion Master among the applicants. All four came through this test with top results. Then there are two applicants who've worked with potions for a couple of years. Their results are good, though not as good as the results of the first group. And then there are four applicants who clearly don't meet the standards we expect. I'd suggest to send them home, and continue the practical part of the testing with the six who have shown us a sound theoretical understanding of what we do here.'

Her suggestion was reasonable, and Harry nodded alongside with Director Pince.

They called in the four unfortunate applicants one by one, and Daphne thanked them for their time, but also told them that the other candidates had better results. The candidates accepted the refusal with resigned smiles and nods.

Harry cast his Patronus to call the remaining applicants into the conference room. Daphne congratulated them on having reached the second phase of the testing, and then led them out of the conference room towards the Potions Laboratory.

Two rows of bubbling cauldrons awaited the applicants in the laboratory, three in each row.

Hermione walked to the cauldron at the leftmost side in the first row. Penelope took the cauldron in the middle, next to her. The last cauldron was claimed by a middle-aged wizard with a droopy mustache and a matt of greying hair.

McLaggen took the cauldron behind Hermione, and the two remaining cauldrons were claimed by two male wizards; Williams and Cadwallader, their name tags read.

Harry, Daphne and Pince took their seats at the head of the room.

Daphne cleared her throat. 'I'm now going to explain what you're expected to do, so listen carefully.' She pointed towards the two rows of cauldrons. 'In the cauldrons in front of you you'll find an example of a newly developed hair dying potion. However, we made an intentional mistake while brewing this batch. You'll have to find out what is wrong with the potion and make a suggestion how to reach the intended result. You have three hours. Begin, and good luck.'

'Thank you, ma'am,' a voice with a heavy American accent said.

Harry glanced up just in time to catch Williams giving Daphne a broad smile and a wink. He grimaced inwardly and folded his arms in front of his chest. What a git. At least Daphne didn't react to him.

Hermione set to work without hesitation. Harry suppressed a smile; this was right up her alley, a puzzle to challenge her ability to analyse and to think logical. There was no doubt in his mind she'd come out on top of this test.

Beside him, Daphne shifted in her seat. He turned his head towards her. She was also watching Hermione, her lips turned upwards. Their eyes met, and they exchanged a knowing smirk.

Pince doodled with a quill on the parchment in front of him, but Harry kept his attention trained on the applicants. The way they set to work was already telling. Three of the four other males in the room chose the same analytical approach as Hermione. Among them was Cormac McLaggen. Now, who would've thought that?

Harry checked the papers in front of him. Maybe he shouldn't be that amazed, McLaggen had obtained a Potions Mastery in Spain, and his grades weren't far behind Hermione's. The two other blokes, Morten Williams and Alexander Cadwallader, were US citizens and had obtained a Potions Mastery at Salem, though in different years. Their papers also were flawless, and their performance up till now confirmed that.

Penelope Clearwater, however, seemed to be out of her depth. She acted like a headless chicken and it looked as if she had no idea what she was doing. Harry still watched her closely when the small cauldron with her Analysing Potion exploded right into her face.

He and Daphne were up from their seats and ran to the screaming Penelope within a split second. Thick globs of potion dripped down from her head to the ground; beneath the potion the skin of her face looked red and angry, her eyes were already swelling shut, and thick patches of her hair were beginning to fall out.

Harry took her hand, put an arm around her shoulder and led her to the side, while Daphne put a Stasis Charm on the site of the accident. Penelope's screams died down to a whimper, though her head seemed to swell even more.

'You'd better take her to St Mungo's, Harry. I'll take care of the mess here,' Daphne said.

Harry nodded. They hadn't counted on an accident, but since this was an experimental potions laboratory, they were prepared for one. He summoned an Emergency Portkey, fastened it to Penelope's robes with a Sticking Charm, and activated it. A second later he and Penelope were at St Mungo's emergency department.

'Potions accident,' he told the healer who rushed up to them, and gave him some details about what Penelope had been doing.

The healer nodded in understanding. He helped Penelope into a wheelchair and patted her hand. 'Don't worry, Ms Clearwater, that can be fixed easily. You'll have to stay overnight, but by tomorrow you'll be alright again.'

Harry let out a deep breath. 'I'm glad to hear that.' He put a hand on Penelope's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. 'I'll have to go back, but Daphne and I will come for a visit tonight. Don't worry about the costs of your treatment, it's on Crystal Fairy's.' He squeezed her shoulder a last time, gave her a reassuring nod and then walked to the Apparition point.

Five minutes later he was back in the laboratory. The ranks of the applicants had thinned even more: only Hermione, McLaggen and the two blokes from the USA were left.

As soon as he entered the room, Daphne straightened and looked at him, her dark eyes a dead give away of her worry, but it was doubtful if anyone in the room except for him or maybe Hermione realised that. He gave her a reassuring nod and put his hand on her shoulder for a brief second as he passed her to sit down. She exhaled quietly and relaxed.

Pince was still doodling on his parchment. He hadn't looked up at Harry's entrance, and now made no move to ask after Penelope's wellbeing. Come to think of it, he'd also left it to Daphne and him to deal with the accident. What was Cyrus thinking to put him in charge of a department?

He cast a Privacy Charm and a Silencing Spell around himself and Daphne. 'Penelope will be alright, the healer assured me. I told her we're coming to see her this evening, and that Crystal Fairy will cover the hospital bill.'

'I'm relieved to hear that.'

Harry motioned with his chin towards the second empty place in the first row. 'What happened to the guy who worked there?'

Daphne bit her lip. 'He gave up. I think he came into a deadlock; he looked rather confused when he quit.'

Harry made a face. 'I don't blame him. I would've been there within the first five minutes of this test.'

Finally, the time was up, and the four remaining applicants handed in their results and were sent into a prolonged lunch break.

Even though Harry had got a N.E.W.T. in Potions during his time at Canterbury Magical University, alongside with completing his N.E.W.T.s in Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology and Muggle Studies while he worked for a B.A. in Magical Economics, he couldn't compete with Daphne, let alone with Pince, so he left it to them to analyse the results and went to the cafeteria in the Muggle part of headquarters to get sandwiches for his wife and himself.

Daphne gave him a broad smile and blew him a kiss behind Pince's back when he not only slid a package with a ham and cheese sandwich in front of her, but also another one with a slice of fresh cherry and almond pie.

'We have a clear winner,' she announced, and pushed the sheet of parchment in front of her towards him, while her other hand already grabbed for the sandwich.

Harry suppressed a smile. How did she manage to stay that slim, given the amount of food she consumed each day? Of course, she had missed breakfast, so she must be famished by now. He pulled the parchment towards him and had a look.

As he'd suspected, Hermione had come out on top of the four contestants, but the other three were not far behind, with almost identical scores.

'It seems as if Hermione is a clear first,' Harry said.

'I agree,' Daphne said between two bites of her sandwich. 'I'll put off my decision about the remaining two positions until I have talked to the other three.'

'That makes sense,' Harry said, and bit into his sandwich. How could she consider McLaggen? The git was a braggart and much too full of himself; hadn't she seen him in that Quidditch match in their sixth year?

Though, that had been almost seven years ago. Maybe the git had grown up and changed since he'd sent him that Bludger to the head. He had to be professional about this and give McLaggen the benefit of the doubt.

Daphne unwrapped the pie. 'I want to get a feel about how the four candidates will fit into our team. Their papers and the tests already gave us a good overview about their professional skills, but it's also important that they'll fit in.'

'Actually, you raised a very important point, Mrs Potter. There isn't anything more disruptive than an employee who is forever at odds with their co-workers,' Pince said.

Hermione was the first one to be called into the room. She looked calm and poised when she walked towards the chair opposite of them and sat down, but a quick bite on her lower lip gave her nervousness away.

Harry gave her a small smile.

The interview was led by Pince; after all, it was his department, and he would know what he was looking for in his staff.

Hermione went through the interview with flying colours. Well, he hadn't expected anything else. He exchanged a glance with his wife as the door closed behind Hermione. She looked as satisfied about the outcome of Hermione's interview as he felt.

The interviews of Cadwallader and Williams went by in a similar fashion.

Cadwallader was a somewhat unremarkable, colourless guy with stooped shoulders, dark blonde hair, and hazel coloured eyes that were hidden behind thick glasses. It was doubtful he'd recognise him at a party if he were going to see him there in another two weeks. However, his answers were clear and well thought out, and he carried himself with a calm confidence.

Williams was the exact opposite, at least in looks. Tall and tanned with unruly, sun-streaked hair he looked like a surfer boy right out of an US movie. He also had the body of one, with broad shoulders and narrow hips, and didn't seem to give a fig about the stiff formality Pince preferred. Well, that was a point in his favour, though the appreciative look he gave Daphne did a lot to destroy that positive impression. However, as soon as Pince started with his questions, Williams' demeanour changed from the easy going, playful kid to a highly motivated professional.

'What do you think, gentlemen?' Daphne asked as soon as he was out of the room.

Harry tapped with the fingers of his right hand on the tabletop. 'I'm not sure. His papers are impressive, and the results of his tests confirmed that. Though he acts and carries himself as if he doesn't take anything serious, as soon as it counts he's focussed and professional.'

'I agree,' Daphne said, a frown on her face. 'But I'd like to add that he seems to be kind of a womanizer.'

'So, you've noticed that.'

She snorted. 'That was hard to miss.' The furrow between her brows deepened. 'The question is, will it interfere with his work performance?'

Director Pince cleared his throat. 'I don't think so. The reference letters from his two former employers indicated nothing in that direction, and it shouldn't matter, anyway, as long as he keeps his hands to himself while at work.'

Harry exchanged a look with his wife. Pince was right, as much as it chafed him to admit that. 'Let's talk to McLaggen and decide afterwards.'

McLaggen strutted into the room like a peacock, sat down, and crossed his legs. For the next twenty minutes they were subjected to a loud monologue about what he thought could be changed for the better in the Department of Magical Research and Development.

About five minutes into the monologue, Daphne began to shift in her seat. Another five minutes later Harry wished for a Headache Potion; McLaggen's blustering voice was unbearable.

Pince managed to get in one question at the end of that monologue, when McLaggen ran out of breath. However, that set him off for another ten minutes.

Pince rubbed his forehead, his brows creased. 'Thank you, Mr McLaggen, that'll suffice,' he said at the end of the second monologue.

'Are you sure? I've just scratched the surface,' McLaggen said. 'You could, for example, increase the number of newly developed potions by -'

'As fascinating as this topic is, I think we'd better adjourn this conversation,' Director Pince said in a firm voice. His hand clenched around the quill in his hand. 'We'll let you know our decision tomorrow via owl. Good afternoon, Mr McLaggen.'

McLaggen gave him a broad smile. He stood up, his chest puffed out, and strutted out of the room. Without a doubt he thought that job was already his.

'He's still as full of himself as he was during our time at Hogwarts,' Harry summed up the gist of the interview as soon as the door had closed behind McLaggen.

Daphne nodded to that. 'I agree. My list is Hermione, Williams and Cadwallader, in that order. What about you?' She looked from Harry to Director Pince.

'I agree,' Harry said, 'Though I'd put Williams and Cadwallader into reverse order.'

Director Pince looked at them as if they were some extraordinary daft students. 'Cadwallader, McLaggen, Williams,' he said.

Harry bristled. 'Why not Hermione?'

'Two reasons,' Director Pince said. 'She's a woman, and she's best friends with the future owners. Both will inevitably lead to problems.'

Daphne went straight in her chair. 'That's a rather sexist remark, director.'

'Not at all. The potioneers in my department are all men. We employ a lot of women there, but they all work in subordinate positions, as assistants and secretaries. Putting a young and obviously smart woman in front of them can lead to tensions. I don't want a catfight in my department, Mrs Potter. Also, your friendship with Mrs Granger-Weasley might lead the other employees to believe that she has a special position and cause resentment.'

Harry exchanged a look with his wife. Damned, the director had actually raised a single valid point, that could lead to problems, however -

'I don't agree, director,' Daphne said, cutting off his train of thought. 'As head of the department it is your job to backup Mrs Granger-Weasley if her position is doubted, though I'm sure that she's able to deal with that on her own. And about our friendship … I think we are all professional enough to keep our private life and our job apart.'

'Still, I think Mr McLaggen will be the better choice. Some of his ideas sound very interesting,' Director Pince said.

Harry cleared his throat. It seemed now was the time for him to give the deciding vote. 'McLaggen thinks he always knows the best, and he'll challenge your leadership from the moment on he sets a foot into your laboratory, director. I had the misfortune to have him on my team when I was Quidditch Captain for my house at Hogwarts, and I can tell you he's able to disrupt a well attuned team more effectively than a pair of Bludgers, and quicker than I can say Quidditch. From what I observed today, he hasn't changed one bit. You fear Mrs Granger-Weasley might turn out to be disruptive for your team, but I can guarantee that McLaggen will do just that.'

Director Pince didn't answer to that, but stared ahead, a frown on his face. After a few minutes of what seemed to have been deep thought, he said, 'He surely comes across as rather strong-minded.'

Harry snorted at that. 'That's putting it mildly, director.'

Pince gathered his papers. 'Alright, you seemed to have made your decision, Mr Potter, and I have to bow to the majority vote. Though I think it's deplorable that your decision is ruled by your affection for your wife and your friend, and old school grudges, instead of logical reasoning. Good evening.' He stood up and left the room.

Harry gaped after him. Had he been in another interview than Pince? McLaggen had been intolerable, even Pince should've been able to see that -

'What a git,' Daphne's voice broke into his thoughts. 'I suppose he'll run straight to Father to complain about us.'

'I don't know why your father still puts up with Pince. It doesn't seem to me he takes his obligations as serious as he should.'

Daphne pushed back a strand of her hair behind her ear with a finger. 'Well, his predecessor was a Muggleborn. She was killed in the first war against Voldemort, and Father had a hard time to find a replacement. I think Pince was all Father could get, and while he's a human rectal orifice, he's proficient enough in his field. However, I agree that his leadership qualities leave a lot to be desired. It's intolerable that he lets his prejudices rule his judgement, and Father needs to hear about that.'

He gave his wife a glance from the side. 'It's hard to imagine he doesn't know already. Don't you think that might be the reason why he put the two of us in charge of the selection of the applicants, together with Pince? We're able to overrule him, and at the same time it'll show him where the company is heading when we're in charge.'

She looked startled at his observation. 'Of course, how could I've been that ignorant?' She let out a small laugh. 'I think by now you know Father even better than I do. Well, chances are good we'll never have to deal with Pince's attitude when we're in charge; his current contract will expire in about two years.'

'Thank Merlin for small blessings,' Harry said, and Daphne laughed, but nodded to his words.

'Maybe Father pulled some strings to get us involved with the recruitment today to show him that the guard will be changing and that it'll be better all round if he were to move on. That kind of subtle persuasion is just his style.'

Harry bit on his tongue to hold back a remark of Cyrus' not so subtle means of persuasion when it came to him. Daphne didn't deserve to be punished for her father's deeds, and he couldn't turn back time, anyway.

He cast a surreptitious look at his wife as she gathered her papers, and his insides grew warm. If he was honest with himself, he didn't want to turn back time; Daphne was easily the best thing that had ever happened to him, even though he'd needed some time to appreciate her.

Daphne got to her feet and reached her hand out to him to haul him up. 'Come on, we still have work to do.' She pointed with her chin to the destroyed cauldron that was still under a Stasis Charm.

'You want to find out what caused the explosion?' Harry asked and also got to his feet. 'I can tell you; I've watched her. She'd just added a vial of undiluted Bubotuber Pus when it happened.'

Daphne gasped and stopped in her tracks. 'A whole vial? No wonder the cauldron exploded in her face.' She shook her head. 'Let's go back to our office to write our report. Father will want to know about this.'

Five minutes later they were in their shared office. Harry volunteered to write the report for Cyrus, while Daphne had to document the final results of the recruitment tests and then had to write the three letters of acceptance to Hermione and the two men from the USA, and of course the letter of rejection to McLaggen.

They were still busy with that task when Cyrus walked in. He sat down on one of the visitor chairs.

'Much too comfortable,' he said and crossed his legs. 'Do you ever get rid of your obnoxious visitors?'

Harry looked up from his report. 'Eventually.' He grinned. 'Though, you are still here.'

'Cheeky brat,' Cyrus said, though it sounded amused. He made himself even more comfortable in the chair. 'I just had a visit from Director Pince. He's not happy with you two.'

Harry exchanged a look with his wife across their double desk.

'You seem not to be surprised,' Cyrus said.

Daphne shook her head. 'Not at all, Father. I think Pince seems to have a problem with Harry and me. You'll find everything in the documentation.'

Cyrus chuckled. 'I thought as much. Well, after today he'd know that the guard's about to change sooner or later. Hopefully that'll lead him to the right decision.'

Daphne cast Harry a pointed glance across the desk, the corners of her mouth upturned. She could as well have said "Told you so!" aloud.

She bent over the parchment in front of her and signed the last of her letters with a flourish. 'Ready; what about you, Harry?'

'Just a minute,' he said, and dried the ink on the last sheet of his report with a spell Hermione had taught him in their first year. 'There, all done.' He flicked his wand, the parchment rolled itself up, Levitated through the air and dropped into Cyrus' lap.

'I guess that's my cue that I've outstayed my welcome,' his father-in-law said. He picked up the roll of parchment from his lap and got to his feet. 'Will you come over for dinner tonight?'

Harry looked at his wife. 'Daphne?'

However, she shook her head. 'We need to visit Ms Clearwater tonight, and I want to give Hermione this.' She held up one of the letters of acceptance.

Cyrus chuckled. 'Do that. I bet she'll be over the moon. Tell her I'm very pleased to welcome her to our team.' He waved at them and left the office.

Harry and Daphne cleared their desks and left soon after him. About ten minutes later Harry stood in front of the star-struck receptionist of St Mungo's and asked for the number of Penelope's room.

'Yes, Mr Potter, o...of course, Mr Potter.' She looked up at him with wide eyes and a silly smile on her face.

'The number, please.' Harry suppressed a sigh.

The public adoration of his person had become worse during the five years since the Battle, especially among the female population. It didn't help his case that _Witch Weekly_ published a lead article about him every other week, and had named him _"the hottest M.W."_ since he'd joined the Wizengamot _._ Even though Daphne, Kingsley and Cyrus kept telling him that this kind of positive press also helped his agenda, it was embarrassing. However, he had learned to deal with it, as vexing and tiring as it was sometimes, and never to show his embarrassment or irritation.

He exhaled and took a look at the name tag at the uniform robe of the receptionist. 'Look, Kirsty, I've had a long day, and I need to make sure if Ms Clearwater is alright and has everything she needs. So, will you please give me the room number?'

Had she heard him? No, probably not; she still looked at him with that silly smile.

Daphne gently pushed him to the side. 'Let me try, honey.' She snapped her fingers right in front of the bedazzled receptionist. 'Can you hear me, Kristy? The room number, please.' Her voice was icy, and her face looked like a thundercloud.

Harry suppressed a grin. Daphne wouldn't admit it for all Galleons at Gringotts, but she had a jealous streak a mile wide and didn't like it at all when women admired him unabashedly.

Kirsty startled, as if yanked out of a pleasant daydream, and paled. 'Yes, Mrs Potter, just one moment, Mrs Potter.' She bent over the ledger in front of her and paged through it, with a nervous upward glance at Daphne every now and then. It didn't look as if she was making much headway; the poor girl seemed to be scared out of her mind by the dark look on Daphne's face.

He couldn't blame her; Daphne was scary when she put on Pureblood airs. The effect was enhanced by her sharp, dark blue Muggle pant suit and matching open robes, combined with a white blouse that still was as crisp as it had been when she'd dressed that morning.

Harry slid his arm around Daphne's waist and pulled her towards him. 'Give the poor girl some space, darling. You're scaring the shit out of her,' he whispered into her ear.

She melted against his side, turned her head and gave him a determined kiss. 'Good, that's exactly what I wanted.' There still was a dangerous gleam in her eyes.

The receptionist raised her head. 'Room twelve on the ground floor. It's in the Dilys Derwent ward.'

Daphne gave her a smile that showed a lot of teeth. 'Thank you very much.' She slid her arm around his waist and murmured something that sounded like "obnoxious fangirls", while she guided him towards the corridor that led to the ward.

He knew better than to comment on that. Instead, he bent towards her and gave her a small kiss on the temple, and she relaxed against him.

Penelope's room was the last one in the corridor, and she shared it with three other witches. When Harry and Daphne arrived, each eye in the room turned towards them. They greeted, but made a beeline to Penelope's bed in the leftmost corner of the room.

She looked much better than right after the accident. The swelling of her head seemed to have receded, and her skin seemed not to be that red anymore, though that was hard to tell since most of her head was wrapped in bandages.

'How are you, Ms Clearwater?' Daphne asked and patted the hand that laid on the blanket.

Penelope gave her a smile, though it looked strained. 'Better, really. The healer said it could've been much worse, but thanks to Harry's prompt reaction I was in hospital almost immediately after it happened, so the damage was reduced to a minimum, and I will be out of hospital by tomorrow morning.'

'I'm happy to hear that,' Daphne said, and gave Penelope's hand a squeeze. 'Though we try to keep them to a minimum, accidents happen. We keep Emergency Portkeys to St Mungo's in each laboratory for that worst case. Do you remember how it happened? If possible, we like to prevent future accidents by avoiding the oversights of the past.'

However, Penelope shook her head. 'It all happened so fast. I remember that I freaked out about the test; I'm rather apt at brewing, but analysis has never been my strong point. During the test I felt like I'd forgotten everything I'd ever learned. Must have been the stress, I guess.'

Harry and Daphne spent some more time visiting with Penelope, then bade their goodbyes.

From the Apparition Point at St Mungo's Harry Apparated them right into the backyard of Ron and Hermione's home.

The old, Victorian two-story house with gingerbread stucco at the gable had been in the Granger family for generations, and when Hermione Obliviated the memories of her parents and replaced them with the wish to leave for Australia as soon as possible, something in Andrew and Jean Granger had baulked against the idea of selling the house. Instead, they cleared the house and left it standing empty. Even though the Death Eaters paid a visit, they hadn't cause substantial damage.

When the war was over, and Hermione had restored the memories of her parents, the Grangers had decided not to return to England, and had given the old family home to Hermione. She and Ron had moved together there as soon as she had finished Hogwarts, and eventually made it into a home as warm and welcoming as _The Burrow._

As soon as the ward bell announced their Apparition, the backdoor to the kitchen flew open, and Hermione came out to greet them. Ron followed on her heels.

'Harry, Daphne? What brings you here, I didn't count on seeing you tonight.' She greeted them with her usual hug, but her eyes flicked between them, and a small frown marred her face.

Daphne pulled the envelope out of her purse and held it out to Hermione. 'I wanted to give you this in person.' Her broad smile almost split her face into halves.

Hermione stretched out a trembling hand to take the envelope. 'Is that …?'

'Why don't you open it and see for yourself?' Harry asked.

The next moment Hermione tore the envelope open, pulled out the letter, and read it with bulging eyes.

Harry put and arm around his wife's shoulder and exchanged a smirk with her.

Hermione's scream pierced the air. 'I've made it, I've made it; oh my god, Ron, I've made it!' She threw her arms around her husband, and he whirled her around, a broad smile on his face.

'Congratulations, love. I knew you'd be hired.' Ron bent down and kissed his wife.

Hermione turned around to Daphne and Harry and gave them another bone-crushing hug. 'Thank you so much. I hope I won't disappoint the faith you put in me.'

Daphne returned her hug. 'You don't have to thank us, Hermione, you've earned your place fair and square.'

'And I know you'll never disappoint us,' Harry said, and put a hand on Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione didn't answer, but her eyes looked rather bright.

Ron clapped into his hands. 'That calls for a celebration. What do you think?'

He led them into the bright kitchen that smelled heavenly of a stew that bubbled on the stove.

'Mmmh!' Daphne sniffed in the air.

'Have you not yet had dinner?' Ron asked, and stirred the stew.

Daphne shook her head, and pulled out one of the chairs around the kitchen table. 'There was no time for that yet. Harry and I visited Ms Clearwater at St Mungo's.'

Ron quirked an eyebrow at Harry. 'You didn't feed your wife and still live to tell the tale? Merlin, you love a dangerous life.' To the laughter of his wife and friends he lifted his wand, Summoned bowls and spoons, and set the table. Another flick Levitated the pot of stew and a loaf of bread to the table, while Hermione opened a bottle of wine the Muggle way.

They drank to Hermione's success, and then Ron ladled the delicious smelling stew into their bowls.

'I never would've thought you'd learn to cook one day, Ron.' Harry grinned at his friend.

Ron shrugged his shoulders. 'What else was I supposed to do? You know that Hermione is useless in a kitchen. I didn't want to starve, so I had to learn how to cook.'

'Apparently, being an excellent Potions Mistress doesn't translate to being a good cook, and vice versa,' Daphne said, and cast Harry a pointed look.

Harry grinned at her. 'If you say so, dearest wife.' He still took over the kitchen once in a while and prepared a meal for them, much to Kreacher's resentment.

'Be nice, children,' Hermione said, and took a sip of her wine. She put down her glass and turned to Daphne. 'There's something I need to tell you.' A small frown had appeared on her face.

Daphne stopped eating and placed her spoon in her bowl. 'Has it to do with today's test?'

Hermione worried her lower lip between her teeth and nodded. 'You know, six years of Potions together with Malfoy, and the last year at the Ministry has made me rather paranoid. I almost expect that someone tries to sabotage my potion, so putting up a semi-permanent shield around me with a low powered rune on my cauldron has become second nature to me.'

Harry straightened in his seat. Was Hermione implying - ?

'I did it today without even thinking about it,' she interrupted his train of thought. 'I think you need to know that at some point during the analysis I felt a Confundus Charm from behind being repelled by my shield.'

Daphne's eyes grew wide, and she exchanged a look with Harry.

The muscles in Harry's neck stiffened, and he pressed his lips together. 'When did that happen?'

'A couple of minutes before Penelope's cauldron exploded.'

He exchanged another long look with his wife. 'Penelope told us she felt as if she'd forgotten everything she ever learned during that test. You told me the bloke next to her looked as if he'd ran into a deadlock, and now Hermione tells us about a Confundus Charm thrown at her. That's too much of a coincidence for my taste.'

Daphne let out an unhappy sigh and rubbed her forehead with her hand. 'I'm afraid you're right, Harry. Even though I watched all the applicants, I didn't notice anything out of the order. Did you?"

He shook his head. 'Unfortunately, not. And I hesitate to blame someone without prove. However, my money is on McLaggen. He's always been a git.'

Ron's head shot up. 'McLaggen? Don't tell me you've hired the idiot.'

'Geez, calm down, Ron, we didn't,' Harry said.

However, that didn't stop his friend from recounting every bit he had heard about the horrendous match against Hufflepuff in their sixth year, and McLaggen's role in it.

The four friends laughed and talked until late into the night.

It wasn't before Harry lay next to his sleeping wife that night that it occurred to him that he still hadn't told her about his dinner with Ginny. His stomach squirmed. Damned, by now it was definitely too late to bring it up in a casual conversation. She'd never believe that it didn't mean that much to him, so he simply forgot about it.

He heaved a big sigh. No, he'd missed the right moment, and now it was better not to tell her. She'd never hear about that, anyway, so why worry her?

He turned around and closed his eyes. However, sleep failed to claim him for a long time that night.

 _t.b.c._


	52. Chapter 49

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Again, a huge thank you to my fantastic editor Shygui.

Chapter **49** and **50** , 16/08/18

* * *

 **49**

He hated surprises, and this constituted a surprise: the letter had been delivered by house elf, not by owl.

He took the envelope from the disgusting creature that was clad in an impeccable green linen pillowcase, and turned it in his hands, his eyebrows raised.

Damn, that was impressive. He hadn't counted on Potter's whore giving his living arrangements so much as a second thought; he'd expected her to send her letter by owl post and potentially violate the Statute of Secrecy while doing so.

However, she must have known by his address that he lived in an upscale Muggle area, and had taken precautions not to be found out by the Muggles. Only few wizards and witches would realise that the appearance of an owl during daytime in a Muggle area was bound to cause some curiosity at least, if not more. Even fewer would've thought of using a house elf to avoid that.

He pressed his lips together. It seemed Potter's whore was more intelligent than he gave her credit for. He'd need to take that into account in his future plans. Maybe he ought to get her out of the way first; without her support Potter might be easier to deal with; from Father's stories he knew the bastard wasn't the brightest candle in the chandelier.

He sat down on the luxurious leather chair in his study with view across Hyde Park and grabbed for the letter knife on the carved desk in front of him. It was an elegant tool with a snake's head with two emeralds for eyes, a heirloom from his father.

He opened the envelope and unfolded the single sheet of rich parchment.

A broad smile spread across his face. Yes, he'd made it! Now he had a foot inside of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products. He wouldn't be his father's son if he didn't find a way to dispose of Potter and his whore from there, not to mention the rest of the vermin that was considered his family.

It had been a lucky omen that Crystal Fairy Beauty Products was looking for potioneers just as he arrived in magical Britain. Of course, it had been a risk to send in his application. How many people still remembered Father and would recognise him? Thank Merlin, magic had an answer for everything, and he wasn't a skilled Potions Master for nothing. Changing his identity and obtaining the appropriate papers he needed for that had also been easy.

He cast a look at the ancient cabin trunk in his study. Muggles might think it an amusing idea for a bar, but a wizard knew that a good multi-compartment trunk could serve more than one purpose.

It hadn't been easy to get into Crystal Fairy's. The competition had been tough, but a few well placed Confundus Charms had taken care of that. However, that bushy-haired, over-achieving Mudblood had almost given him away. She'd placed a shield charm around herself, and his Confundus Charm had slid off before he realised what she had done. Thank Merlin she seemed to have been so preoccupied with her analysis that she didn't notice the attempt.

He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms behind his head, while the smile on his face became even broader.

Soon, very soon, he'd attend to Potter's funeral.

 _t.b.c._


	53. Chapter 50

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Many thanks to Shygui, who edited this chapter.

Chapter **49** and **50,** 16/08/18

* * *

 **50**

Daphne's eyes were glued to the oblong Muggle contraption in her hands. She looked at the timer she'd conjured and put in front of her on the edge of the washbasin, while she perched on the side of the huge bathtub in the bathroom that adjoined her and Harry's bedroom. The two minutes until the result showed should already be up, shouldn't they? She looked at the window and scowled, the damn contraption was probably broken - no, still almost sixty seconds to go. She deflated, and her shoulders sagged.

She and Harry had spent the last two weeks in France; one week in Paris in celebration of their fifth wedding anniversary, and another week at a romantic villa in Normandy. Harry had planned this trip without telling her, and she had been whisked away. It had been such an unexpected and romantic gesture from him, he'd spoiled her rotten, and these two weeks were the happiest they'd ever been together.

However, during the last few days of their trip she had begun suspecting she might be -.

Her eyes returned to the small display field right above the tip of the contraption as if drawn by a magnet. It was as blank as a sheet of parchment. And still fifty seconds to go.

She'd been less than enthusiastic when Hermione and even Fleur had told her about this special Muggle invention, but Fleur had insisted it was the most accurate and less invasive way to obtain the knowledge she sought for at an early date. _You don't want to disturb a delicate little flower with the power of a spell,_ she'd told her, and she'd bowed to her wisdom. Fleur knew what she was talking about.

Thirty more seconds to go. Her heartbeat increased. Please, Circe …

A faint mark appeared in the middle of the display field, then grew stronger, like a Patronus materialising out of a silver mist into its corporeal form.

Her heart boomed in her ears. Was that the positive mark? She compared the sign on the display field with the directions that came with that Muggle contraption. Oh, Circe, yes, it was!

'Yes!' Daphne sprang up from the edge of the bathtub, a huge smile on her face, and thrust both arms in the air, one hand still clutched around the Muggle contraption. The next moment she yanked the door open and ran down to the family room.

Harry looked up from the newspaper he was reading as she burst into the room. 'Good morning, Daph. What has you so -'

She didn't let him finish his sentence, plopped down in his lap, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him deeply.

His eyes were somewhat glazed over when she finished the kiss, but he shot her a broad grin while he tightened his arms around her. 'Not that I'm complaining, but to what do I owe this special treatment?'

Instead of an answer, she held the Muggle contraption under his nose.

'What's that?' he asked, grabbed for the strange thing and studied it, his eyebrows knitted together in a small frown.

'That, dearest husband, is a Muggle pregnancy test.'

His head jerked up, and he stared at her for a long moment, mouth agape. His eyes flickered back to the device in his hand and concentrated on the display field. His breath caught, and he bit his lower lip. When he looked at her again, the trembling, little smile around his lips indicated his comprehension of the momentous news she was telling him, and his hesitation to believe his biggest dream was finally coming true.

'Does it -' He cleared his throat. 'Does it say what I think it says?' he asked, and the smile on his face became stronger.

She leaned her forehead against his. Blue eyes smiled into emerald green, and she ran her hand through the silken hair at the back of his neck.

'Yes, you're going to become a daddy. If I did the math right, by next April it'll be a lot noisier around here.'

He made a strange, choked little sound, and the next moment he kissed her with a tenderness that made her tremble in his arms.

Tears of joy pooled behind her closed eyes, and trickled down her cheeks. They'd become incredible close ever since she'd decided to throw her fears and secret reservations about his stance to their relationship over board, and dedicate herself completely to whatever there was between them. Though he'd never said he loved her in all these years, he'd also never given her reason to think he wasn't as dedicated to their marriage as she was. His kiss said everything he didn't say aloud: she was the mother of his child, and for that he was going to cherish and treasure her forever.

Harry broke their kiss and leaned back, a frown on his face.

'Why are you crying?' he asked, cupped her face in his hands and brushed away the tears with the pads of his thumbs.

Her breath caught. Could she finally dare to tell him how she felt?

 _Harry wouldn't know love if it bit him in the nose._

Hermione's words, spoken on a cold December day so long ago, rose from the depth of her memory. Had he learned to understand the concept of love after five years living with her? She had no idea, just as Hermione had predicted that day, he never talked about his feelings for her. No, she'd better stick to the resolve she'd made that Christmas Day, relish what she had, and give him the time to figure things out on his own. Though, after five years he by now should have an idea about his feelings for her ...

No, she'd better not delve into the murky depths that were Harry's emotions. Even though the _Le Renouvellement_ Potion had done wonders to help him deal with the repercussions of his upbringing and the terrors he had seen, it hadn't managed to give him the emotional equipment he should have picked up in a normal home. He still had a long way to go.

She shrugged. 'I don't know. I'm so happy.'

He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers in a butterfly kiss. 'So am I.' He cradled her in his arms, her head tucked under his chin, and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. 'So, we brought back a souvenir from Paris with us?' A low chuckle rumbled in his chest.

She joined his laughter. 'I told you before, and I'll tell you again, the surprise trip to Paris to celebrate our fifth wedding anniversary was the best idea you ever had.'

'Not to mention that Fleur was pleased with us finally doing all the things she told us about when she and Bill visited us during our honeymoon,' Harry said.

Daphne made herself more comfortable in his arms. 'Remember the boat we took on the Seine at dusk to see the illuminated city? It was magical, wasn't it?'

'Yeah, and so was our dinner on the Eiffel Tower,' Harry said.

'Though, you have to promise me one thing,' Daphne said, and tilted back her head to look him into the eyes.

He raised his eyebrows at her.

'This baby is not going to be named Paris, neither as first name nor as middle name.'

Harry scrunched up his nose. 'Paris? How wacky is that?' He bowed his head and gave her a small kiss. 'That's something I can easily agree to.'

* * *

They spent the rest of the weekend spinning daydreams, weaving dreams and making plans. Monday and their return to their jobs at Crystal Fairy's came much too soon.

Harry insisted to take the car instead of Apparating to the magical part of the company and maybe risk Splinching herself or the baby, and Daphne relented with an indulgent smile. He'd always been an attentive husband, but ever since she'd told him about her pregnancy he practically carried her on his hands. It was nice, and she knew how to put a stop to it if he became overbearing, but for the time being she relished getting pampered.

Lisa greeted them from behind her desk with raised eyebrows and a broad smile when they walked into her outer office in front of their shared office in the Muggle part of headquarters hand in hand. 'My, you two look as if you've had the time of your life in France.'

Harry and Daphne shared a look and a secretive smile. 'We had,' they said unison.

Lisa winked at Daphne. 'You'll have to tell me about that at lunch, and in turn I'll tell you everything about the bliss of changing nappies that are full to the brim. Merlin, I'm glad you agreed to let me work part time and share my job with Fleur. I love little Dickie to bits, but I'm not made to be a mother-hen twenty-four/seven.' She didn't wait for a response and gathered the papers in front of her. 'I'm sorry to tell you that you'll have to lead a delegation from magical U.S.A. through the Potions Department this morning. Cyrus made the appointment just before he left for his own holidays last Friday.'

'In the full knowledge that we'll have to do it,' Harry said, and took the papers from her. 'I'll have to think of something to get even with him.'

The two women snorted at that.

'I doubt that'll overtax your imagination, honey,' Daphne said.

Harry looked up from the papers in his hands and flashed both of them a grin. 'I suppose you're right. Anything else we need to know, Lisa?'

She motioned with her hand into the direction of their shared office. 'It's all on your desk, in neat stacks.'

'I was afraid you'd say that.' Harry rolled his eyes and held the door to their shared office open for Daphne. They had, like Cyrus, an office in the Muggle part of headquarters, because they were more frequently needed in the Muggle departments of the company. However, all three of them employed witches who knew their way in the Muggle world in their front office.

Lisa hadn't exaggerated, from each of the two desks several stacks of mail greeted them. They exchanged a small, regretful smile and set to work. Over the next hour, they hardly said a word, while they both tried to get an overview of what happened in their respective area of responsibility while they were away.

Daphne was not yet half through her mail when the phone on Harry's desk rang.

He answered the call. 'Alright, we'll be there in a minute,' he said, and ended the call. He got to his feet and opened the door to the closed wardrobe where they kept their open business robes. 'The delegation from the USA has arrived,' he told her over his shoulder, and pulled out a robe for himself.

Daphne nodded and put the report she was just reading back on her desk. With a little luck she'd be able to get back at it this afternoon. She let out a sigh. Why did Father have to burden them with foreign visitors on the day of their return? He should've known they'd be buried with work. She got up from her chair and slipped into the robes Harry held out for her.

Instead of pulling back his hands after he had helped her into her robes, he put them on her shoulders and turned her around. His eyes scanned her face. 'Are you alright, darling?'

She slipped her arms around his waist and pulled him towards her. 'I'm fine, honey. No sign of morning sickness yet. Stop worrying, this visit won't kill me.'

His cheeks flushed, and he turned away his eyes with a small cough. 'If you say so.'

Daphne suppressed a smile. He worried about her and was embarrassed that she'd noticed. How cute was that? She raised her hand, turned his face towards her and got on her tiptoes to give him a small kiss. 'I promise I'll take it slow and let you know when I have enough. I'll leave it up to you to find a proper excuse for me then. Is that enough to prevent you from fretting?'

He laughed. 'Yes … Yes, it is,' he said, and returned her kiss.

They left their office through a door under heavy Muggle-Repelling-Charms that lead to a corridor in the magical part of headquarters. From there it were only a few steps to the conference room where Director Pince awaited them with the delegation from the USA.

The delegation consisted of a woman and two men.

Daphne stopped in her tracks when Harry opened the door to the conference room for her, and her gaze fell on auburn hair and electric blue eyes. 'Isn't that -' she whispered to Harry.

He peeked into the room over her head. 'Elias Frudge,' he finished for her.

The hairs on the back of her head lifted. She bit her lips and shoved her hands into the pockets of her robes. What was the bitch's former husband doing at Crystal Fairy?

Director Pince made the necessary introductions. The other witch and wizard turned out to be the Crogans, business partners of Elias Frudge. Together, they owned a chain of potion labs throughout the USA, and Cyrus had been in negotiations with them quite some time about a possible partnership.

'I can see the advantages of producing in the USA,' Harry said as they had settled down around the conference table, cups of coffee or tea in front of them. 'Quite a lot of our Beauty Potions have a short pull-date, so we refrain from exporting them. Others are sensitive to magical shipping and can't be exported, either. I'm sure it'll be beneficial to both of our companies to come to an agreement. However, we demand a certain standard of the laboratories we use to brew our potions. Some people might think Beauty Potions frills, but I've come to learn that they require as much caution and attention when brewed as Healing Potions, or the consequences can be dire. It is my understanding that you've come to see our laboratory today to find out more about possible changes you'd need to make in your laboratories if we come to an agreement?'

John Crogan nodded to that and cleared his throat. 'You're right, Mr Potter. I think you'll understand that a future cooperation with Crystal Fairy Beauty Products is only beneficial to our company if the amount of gold we'll have to invest to make the necessary changes to our laboratories isn't too big.'

Harry inclined his head. 'Of course. Director Pince can tell you everything about the technical details. I think it's best he'll give us an overview before we visit the experimental laboratory here at headquarters, and after that the laboratory in Godric's Hollow where the potions for Magical Britain are brewed.' He motioned with his hand towards Director Pince.

Director Pince took the cue, cleared his throat, and launched into a very detailed and very dry explanation of the setup of their laboratories.

Daphne was familiar with the matter, so she listened with only half an ear to his explanations while she squirmed in her seat beside Harry. As always during meetings, he'd opted for a coffee, and the fragrance that wafted over to her from his cup made her stomach roil. Since when smelled coffee that disgusting? She gulped down the bile that raised in her throat and shifted in her seat, while she stared at the offending cup, unable to concentrate on anything else. If she sprinted to the door right now, would she make it out of the room or throw up on the floor right in front of the visitors?

Her fidgeting caught Harry's attention; he shot her a short side glance, his eyes flicked between her face and his cup, and an understanding smile flitted across his face. The next moment he had his features schooled back into the bland face, appropriate to listen to Pince's explanations. He slipped his right hand under the table and made a small movement.

The nauseating smell stopped.

Daphne breathed out. Whatever he'd done to his cup, it had prevented her from embarrassing herself.

He gave her another side glance, and the corners of his mouth quirked up in a small smile. The next moment, his attention was back on Pince.

It seemed to take an eternity, but finally Pince came to an end with his explanations, and they all rose to walk to the laboratories. Pince led the way, their guests followed, and she and Harry brought up the rear.

She took the opportunity and cast a Privacy Charm around them. 'Thank you for whatever you did to your coffee cup, honey. I was that close to throwing up.'

Harry chuckled in response. His hand brushed against hers, and he gave her a smile that made her breath hitch. 'That was obvious,' he said. 'I didn't want to give Pince another reason to complain about us to your father.'

Daphne snorted, but before she could respond, Elias Frudge let himself fall back behind the Crogans, obviously he wanted to talk to Harry and her. She cancelled the Privacy Charm.

'I'm happy to see you again, Harry and Daphne. We hadn't much time to talk on that Christmas a couple of years ago,' he said.

She gave him a polite smile. 'Well, there's never much room or time for a quiet talk at a Weasley family gathering.'

He sighed in response. 'So I've been told, but I never had the time to find out. I suppose you know that Ginny's and my marriage didn't last long.'

'We do; I'm very sorry about that.' She cast a quick glance at Harry from under her eyelashes. How did he take a talk about the bitch?

His face was calm, and a polite smile played around his lips. He'd become quite apt in guarding his feelings; impossible to tell if the talk about the bitch was troubling him.

An ugly sneer appeared on Elias' face at her words. 'I won't deny that I was heartbroken when she first left me. I really thought we had something special. However, after the way she fleeced me in our separation settlement, I'm not so sure about that anymore. Gold digging little skank!'

Beside her, Harry startled; he lowered his head and fiddled with the upper button of his robes, but didn't respond to Elias' bitter words.

Daphne's stomach gave a sudden, hard lurch. Damned, after all these years Elias bad-mouthing the Weaselette still had the power to get to Harry. Would he ever be truly over the girl?

She suppressed a sigh, cast her eyes to the floor and smoothed down the front of her robes. Elias' bitter remark about the Weaselette was probably true, given that there was evidence she'd cheated on Harry while she was his official girlfriend. But how to respond to that without affronting their guest and hurting Harry even more?

Director Pince relieved her of her dilemma. They had reached the Department for Magical Research and Development, and he began the next round of explanations.

'Here near the entrance we have the secretarial pool, with the offices of the potioneers adjoining.' He motioned with his hand to three women at desks who were busily scribbling away. Three doors each at the left and the right of the room apparently led to the other offices.

He beckoned them to follow him down a corridor. 'To the left and the right are storage rooms and rooms for the assistants to prepare ingredients or simple basic potions.' He opened one door and showed them rows of rows of perfectly shelved and labelled potion ingredients. Behind a steel door that was also secured by a ward similar to those used at the high security vaults at Gringotts and had to be disabled by Director Pince were the dangerous or rare and expensive ingredients.

The Crogans and Elias craned their necks, and seemed to be rather impressed by the precautions.

Director Pince lead them further down the corridor. Through glass doors they got glimpses of about a dozen of women in small cubicles, cutting ingredients or brewing potions.

At the end of the corridor, overlooking the laboratory, were two large glass cubicles to the left and the right, each one furnished with a long conference table and chairs, and a chalkboard on the solid wall.

'These are our conference rooms. Developing a new beauty product is teamwork, and after each step the team that works on a new product gets together and compares notes.' Director Pince pointed at two wizards in the cubicle closest to the laboratory, who had their heads bent over a ledger.

'Of course, it's all strictly confidential. All I can tell you is that Mr Abbott and Mr Pyke are working on a new shampoo dealing with dandruff. We've discovered that animal venom and poison leads to excellent results, however, we still have to determine which is the best, and to find a way to disable the poisonous properties without watering down the effects. Unthinkable if a wizard or witch is being poisoned through a small wound on their scalp while washing their hair!' He let out a small laugh.

The visitors looked at each other and shuddered.

Daphne didn't blame them, the thought of a possibly lethal poison in your shampoo wasn't very appealing.

At last, they came to the laboratory.

Five work tables were set up behind each other. The first two tables were empty, but the cauldrons under a Stasis Charm and the leftover ingredients on the tables indicated that they were the workplaces of Abbott and Pyke who had interrupted their work to discuss their findings.

Hermione had her workplace right behind them. At the entrance of the visitors she looked up, and gave them a nod and a small smile in greeting, but concentrated back on her cauldron immediately.

Cadwallader and Williams had the workplaces behind her. They also gave them a short greeting and then returned to their work.

'Mrs Weasley-Granger, Mr Cadwallader and Mr Williams are working on a new potion that is supposed to give straight hair a permanent curl,' Director Pince explained. He motioned them to gather in front of Cadwallader's cauldron, and explained the potion he was brewing, and how his approach differed from Williams' and Hermione's approach.

Strange smelling fumes emitted from Cadwallader's cauldron, and Daphne's stomach squirmed again. She had to get away from here. Without attracting attention to herself she stepped away from Cadwallader's workplace.

Of course, Harry noticed. His head turned around, and he looked at her with furrowed eyebrows.

She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, though it wasn't easy with her squirming stomach, and walked around Hermione's workplace until she stood in front of her cauldron. At least Hermione's cauldron emitted a fragrance of peppermint and lemons.

Hermione looked up from the Alihotsy leaves she was chopping. 'Just one moment, Daphne, I'll have to add the last ingredient, and then we'll have some time to talk while the potion simmers and Pince is still busy with the visitors.'

Daphne nodded and leaned against the table while Hermione worked. As if drawn by an invisible magnet, her eyes returned to Harry. He stood beside Elias, tall and proud, and incredibly handsome in dark blue robes of Acrumantula silk over a Muggle suit that fitted him like a second skin. Her stomach made a little flip-flop, and a smile spread over her face.

A soft giggle brought her back to reality. 'You're so smitten with your own husband,' Hermione said over the chopping noises of her silver knife.

Daphne glared at her. 'Pot. Kettle. Black.'

Hermione grinned, but was smart enough not to press her point.

Daphne's gaze returned to Harry. How would he be as a dad? Would the bad experiences of his childhood make him an overly indulgent parent? Maybe, but she would be there to outbalance him.

As if he felt her gaze on himself, Harry turned around and gave her a small smile behind the backs of Pince and their visitors. Their eyes locked, and warmth spread in her chest.

The chopping noise of Hermione's silver knife stopped. 'I'm now adding the Alihotsy leaves. You may want to close your eyes to shield them from the smoke that's going to come out of the cauldron.' Her voice seemed to come from far away.

Her eyes still locked with Harry's, she nodded. The backs of Pince and their visitors were turned to her, and Cadwallader and Williams were occupied with their own work, so she dared to blow him a small kiss, and closed her eyes.

Hermione sniggered. The next moment there was a hissing sound as the chopped Alihotsy leaves hit the surface of the potion.

 _BOOM!_

A torrent of scalding hot potion splashed right onto her chest, soaked her clothes and burnt her skin.

Hot pain seared through her body. Her eyes opened wide, she screamed and clapped her hands in front of her chest in an belated attempt to shield herself from the exploding potion. The next second the palms of her hands burned as if the skin had peeled off and left nothing but raw flesh.

She broke out in cold sweat, her heartbeat raced, and the world seemed to turn around her, faster and faster. Her knees buckled, and she screamed again.

Strong arms around her shoulders caught her before she crashed to the ground.

'Daphne, darling, can you hear me?'

Harry. His eyes, black with worry, brought her somewhat to reality. The spinning world became slower.

'You're in shock, darling. I'll help you lay down, and then I'll take you to St Mungo's by Portkey.'

She nodded and let out a whimper as he lowered her to the ground. His eyes never left her face, and his chin was set in a taut line.

As soon as she lay on the ground, each muscle in her body cramped. Her spine arched in an impossible angle, hurting even more than the hot potion on her chest and her hands, and threatening to break her into halves.

'Daphne!'

Harry's voice again, this time full of concern and panic.

The seizure lasted only for a few seconds, seconds that had seemed like eternities.

Harry's eyes were glued to her face; he had pulled out his wand and fastened a Portkey to her robes. He was as pale as a ghost, but managed a small smile. 'Don't worry, darling, you'll be at St Mungo's in a second, and everything is going to be alright.'

There was something she had to tell him, something very important. 'Harry, I …'

The next moment, her throat constricted. She tried to breathe, but her windpipe seemed to be closed off, and she managed nothing but a laboured gasp. The world ceased to exist, and everything went black.

 _t.b.c._


	54. Chapter 51

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Many, many thanks to my fantastic editor Shygui.

Chapter **51** and **52** , 19/08/18

Since I ended the last chapter on such a mean cliffhanger, I'm going to give you two chapters today. ;)

* * *

 **51**

 _BOOM!_

It was the sweetest and most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.

The potion erupted from the Mudblood's cauldron in a wave that crested a good two feet above the bench top before gravity asserted its control and it arced downwards, covering Potter's whore in horrible smelling goo.

Pince and his visitors whirled around and gasped. Their gasps were drowned out by a scream of pain from Potter's whore.

She was a sight to behold: the front of her robes was soaked in the acidic smelling, muddy potion that slowly burnt through her clothes and skin, and her pretty doll face was contorted in pain.

He suppressed the victorious laughter that welled up in him. She'd be in even more pain until this was over. It would be a delight to watch her suffer and die a slow, painful death. He stifled a giggle; she really was dumb enough to clutch her hands in front of her chest. The acid, highly poisonous potion he'd created by simply swapping one ingredient with a silent and wandless Switching Spell at once blistered through the skin of her tender Pureblood hands. She swayed, beads of sweat pooled on her forehead, and she screamed again as her knees buckled under her, and she threatened to crash to the ground.

A sneer almost broke through and on to his carefully controlled face as the ridiculously devoted husband of hers had ran towards her the moment the explosion happened. Of course, he'd been the only one of the visitor's group who hadn't trained his attention on Pince; instead he'd been making eyes at his whore. Their public displays of affection had been nauseating, but it also had enabled him to cast the Switching Spell without anyone noticing. The selection of snake, frog and blue ringed octopus venom the morons Abbott and Pyke had left openly on their workplaces when they went into the conference room came in handy. It had been a spur of a moment decision to attack, but the opportunity had been to good to be missed.

He watched Potter from under his eyelids. He'd reached his whore and caught her in his arms.

'Daphne, darling, can you hear me?'

That man had no decorum. Oh, well, he probably shouldn't expect anything else from a Halfblood. At least his expression was something he'd remember and entertain himself with for a long time to come.

Potter's face was as white as a sheet of that cheap Muggle paper, a small sheen of sweat was visible on his upper lip, and he shook like the leave of a trembling poplar.

'You're in shock, darling. I'll help you lay down, and then I'll take you to St Mungo's by Portkey.'

He almost gagged, how touching. The whore nodded and whimpered in the most amusing way as Potter lowered her to the ground.

Pince, the visitors, and his colleague had all gathered around Potter and his whore, gasping, or offering useless advice; Abbott and Pyke had rushed out of the conference room and joined the Greek chorus of this comedy, and even the moronic assistants who barely knew how to hold a potions knife crowded in the door to the corridor.

Of course he'd had to join the curious onlookers, anything else would have caused suspicion. He also had a first row view on the mortal agony of the whore that way. The whore would be dead before she reached St. Mungo's, they'd never find out in time that the harmless Beauty Potion the Mudblood had been working on was poisonous.

Speaking of the Mudblood, where was she? The company rumour mill and _The Daily Prophet_ said she was best friends with Potter and his whore, so shouldn't she be next to them and wring her hands in despair, especially since she had been so foolish to cause the lethal accident?

He turned his head. The Mudblood still was at her workplace, her bushy head bent over a sheet of parchment, and her eyebrows knitted together as she concentrated on what seemed to be a system of complex Arithmancy equations, her quill scribbling furiously.

A groan from the whore diverted his attraction from the Mudblood. The whore seizured; her spine arched in an impossible angle, and her face contorted in a pain that must be unbearable. Brilliant, the poison worked just as it was supposed to.

'Daphne!'

Potter again. Gods, the man was so pathetic. He suppressed a snigger.

The seizure ended much too soon.

Potter's eyes were glued to the whore's face, he pulled out his wand and fastened a Portkey to her robes. He was as pale as a ghost, but managed a small smile, probably to comfort the whore. 'Don't worry, darling, you'll be at St Mungo's in a second, and everything is going to be alright.'

The next moment, the whore let out a gurgling sound. Of course, by now the poison should be beginning to paralyse her diaphragm. It would only be a matter of seconds from now on, and Potter could go shopping for mourning robes. The eyes of the whore rolled back into her head.

'DAPHNE!'

Potter's panicked voice was music in his ears. He'd never be able to get her to St. Mungo's in time. A warm feeling of success spread in his stomach.

'Harry! It's a poison!'

His head whirled around. What business had the Mudblood to meddle in his affairs?

The Mudblood looked at Potter, waving the sheet of parchment in her hand.

He cursed his oversight; she was of course a brilliant Potions Mistress, as he'd found out in the few weeks they worked together, of course she would realise that something had to be seriously amiss to cause that violent reaction, and would go over the steps she'd made to find out where she'd made a mistake. He cursed himself under his breath, he hadn't counted on her keeping a level head when one of her best friends was dying and do the Arithmancy right now. He'd thought she wouldn't realise the beauty potion had been turned into an highly effective poison before it was too late. It didn't matter, it was already too late for the whore, they'd never find out the antidote in time.

Potter's head jerked up. His mouth was pressed in a thin line. The next moment a small object soared through the air, Potter snatched it with his hand before it hit him, and forced it down the whore's throat.

He suppressed the groan that threatened to escape his lips. His body tensed until his muscles quivered, and he gritted his teeth. This was a potions laboratory, they worked with dangerous and sometimes poisonous ingredients, and accidents had to happen occasionally. He should have known they'd keep a Bezoar somewhere, as security and health conscious as this company was.

Damn, Potter had Summoned the Bezoar silently and without a wand, so he hadn't even stood a chance to prevent Potter from saving the whore. That was impressive; he ought to be on his guard when he went after the upstart.

Potter's whore took a deep, shuddering breath.

Double damn it, the Bezoar had saved her, literally at the last second. He clenched his fists in the folds of his robes and bit on his lips to prevent himself from screaming in frustration.

Potter looked down on his whore; his shoulders slumped, and he let out a deep breath.

'She should be alright until we reach St. Mungo's.' He looked up, his eyes searched for the Mudblood. 'Hermione, you'd better come with me. The healer -'

'- will want to know what kind of potion I've been working on, and needs a sample to brew the antidote.' The Mudblood finished the sentence for Potter and walked around her workplace towards him, a sealed vial with a dark liquid in her hand.

Potter smiled, though his smile didn't reach his eyes. 'Merlin bless you, Hermione, as always you're one step ahead of me.'

'I told you I'll always have your back,' the Mudblood said, and put a finger on the Portkey Potter had fastened to the whore's robes. 'You'd better take us to St. Mungo's right now, Harry.'

Potter nodded, slipped out his wand and touched the Portkey.

The Portkey glowed blue, and the next second Potter, the whore and the Mudblood were gone.

 _t.b.c._


	55. Chapter 52

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** A very big thank you to my wonderful editor Shygui. Editing this special chapter was asking a lot.

Chapter **51** and **52,** 19/08/18

* * *

 **52**

She floated in a warm and dark place. Ahead of her, was a bright light; she had to go there, she'd be forever safe and happy there. She had no idea how she knew that, but it was an absolute certainty deeply ingrained to her soul.

She tried to move towards the light, but something held her back, invisible strings that still tied her to the place she had come from. No, she didn't want to return, there was pain there, she wanted to move on … had to move on.

Daphne yanked at the invisible strings, once, twice - however, they wouldn't budge. She sighed. Seemed she was stuck in between wherever she came from and the wonderful light. At least it was warm here, and there was no pain. Eventually whatever or whoever held her back would become tired of it; they would let go and she could move on.

She closed her eyes and surrendered herself to the warm darkness and quietness that surrounded her. Warmth and eternal quietness ...

The soft rustle of the evening wind in the leaves of a tree reached her ears. However, not even a small breath of air touched her skin.

She opened her eyes. The darkness still surrounded her, like before, but it seemed to have changed, become lighter, like the sky above the horizon before the sun rose.

There was a soft sound in the air - the song of the lark in the morning? She strained her ears. She'd always loved the concert of the birds in the early summer mornings, it would be nice to listen to them one more time and while away the time until she could move on.

The sound became louder, more distinctive. No, it wasn't birdsong, it was a human voice … a familiar voice. Her heart skipped a beat. She knew that voice; it was the voice of someone she loved, someone who meant everything to her …

So, this held her back. The voice - it didn't want to let her go. It called to her, pleaded with her to come back.

She sighed; she didn't want to go back. It was so peaceful here, and wherever she was going to go next after she would've moved on from this place would be even better.

The voice became louder, insistent … desperate.

A face flashed in her mind's eye, and her breath hitched in her throat. How could she have forgotten about him? She'd miss the owner of this voice; wherever she was supposed to be going to, she wouldn't be happy there until she had found his voice again.

She turned away from the beckoning light and looked back on the path she'd come from. It looked dark and narrow and arduous - but who awaited her at the end would be worth all the trouble.

With another sigh, she began the long journey back.

* * *

The next time she opened her eyes, the golden light of a shaded lamp blinded her. She lay flat on her back on a soft surface. The air smelled strange, a mixture of herbs and disinfectants. A hospital bed, then. How had she got here?

Her hand was cupped between two hands, in a tender, yet firm grip. A male voice murmured into her ear. She let out a small groan, closed her eyes again and breathed out. At least the faint, red glow behind her eyelids was bearable.

'Daphne!' The voice sounded choked, clothes rustled, and one hand let go of her hand and cupped her cheek the next second. 'Look at me, darling, come back to me.'

Harry! She opened her eyes once again.

He bent over her, his face was so close she could count each stubble on his chin and cheeks. His eyes, bloodshot and dull, bored into hers.

Why did he look so heartbroken? She tried to raise her hand to caress his cheek, give him the reassurance he so obviously needed, but her body refused to obey the command of her brain. All she could do was giving him a small, tremulous smile.

Tears flooded his eyes. He tried to blink them away and failed miserably, only succeeding in giving her a wet smile instead. 'Thank Merlin! I thought I had lost you.' His voice choked, and he slumped over her and buried his head at her shoulder.

Was he crying? Probably. Again, she tried to raise her arms. This time, her body obeyed, though her arms seemed to weigh a ton each as she put them around Harry in a clumsy embrace.

The soft, familiar tingle of his distress permeated her body, followed by a flood of warmth that made her heart glow. She smiled; it had been the right decision to come back to him, eternity would have been a damned lonesome place without him.

He raised his head and looked at her. His eyes were dry, though much redder than before. 'How are you feeling?' His voice was cracking, as though he he had been speaking non stop for days; he straightened into a sitting position and brushed a strand of hair out of her face with gentle fingertips.

She allowed her arms to drop back to the bed. How was she feeling? That was a good question. Maybe it was time to take stock of her body.

Her gaze fell on her arms that lay beside her body. Her hands were wrapped in thick bandages. Underneath them, the skin itched and felt tight as though it were stretched. More bandages seemed to be wrapped around her chest, and the skin there was itchy and tender. Worst of all, however, were the cramps in her abdomen. It seemed as if her period had set in, with at least thrice the force it usually had.

She knitted her eyebrows together. She wasn't supposed to have her period right now, not after she'd just found out -

Daphne gasped, ice spread from her heart all over her body. She put her hands on her abdomen. 'My baby! What happened to my baby?'

Harry bent forward and took her in his arms. He held her in a tight grip, and his voice sounded hoarse when he spoke. 'You had an … accident, darling. You barely survived. The baby … didn't.'

She shook her head against his shoulder. 'No … no, that can't be true!'

He tightened his grip around her and dropped a kiss on her head. 'Unfortunately, it is,' he whispered into her hair.

A pain like she'd never known before seared through her body, as if somebody was yanking her heart out to stab it, only to plunge it back into her chest cavity and do it all over again. She closed her eyes. Hot tears welled up behind her eyelids, and the next moment she sobbed into his shoulder.

She had no idea how long she cried, wrapped in the comfort of Harry's arms. He caressed her back and murmured soothing words of comfort, while his tears trickled into her hair.

She cried until there were no more tears, then extricated herself from his embrace, laid back into the crisp, white pillow of the hospital bed and grabbed his hand between her bandaged hands.

'What happened?'

'You don't have any memories?'

She shook her head. 'The last thing I remember is arriving at headquarters for our first day of work. I think Lisa said something about visitors Father had scheduled for … when was that?'

'Three days ago, on Monday,' Harry said.

Daphne held her breath. So, she'd been unconscious for more almost three whole days? Harry's rumpled appearance lent credence to that. He wore the clothes he'd worn on Monday, though his robes, suit jacket and tie were missing, and he looked as if he hadn't left her side since then, hollow-eyed, unshaved, and as pale as a ghost.

Her chest tightened. She shifted in her bed and bit her lip. She surely had put him through the wringer. That was the last thing he deserved, after all that he'd been through.

'Well, we took the visitors on a tour through the laboratory. Pince led us to the workplace of one of the new potioneers and explained what he was doing, but you couldn't cope with the smell that was being emitted from his cauldron.' Harry looked away, paused, took a sip of water from a glass on the bedside table, and cleared his throat.

After a few seconds he turned his head back. 'You went over to Hermione's workplace. She was in the last stages of brewing a test potion. When she added the chopped Alihotsy leaves, the potion in her cauldron exploded and covered the front of your robes. Something was strange about that potion, it burned through your robes and skin. That shouldn't have been possible, even I know that the Alihotsy leaves couldn't have caused that reaction.'

Again, he paused, and took a deep breath before he went on. 'You were in severe pain. I tried to get you to St Mungo's, but you had a seizure, and the next moment you stopped breathing.' He bent down and put his arms around her as if she was precious and breakable. 'That was the moment I thought I had lost you.'

'Since I'm still very alive, I guess you saved me,' she said, in an attempt to lighten his mood.

'Hermione did.' Harry pulled away from her and straightened. 'She was incredible. She at once realised that her potion shouldn't have reacted like that to the Alihotsy leaves, and did the Arithmancy equations to find out what had happened. She discovered that the potion had somehow turned into a deadly poison, just in time to save you.'

'She Summoned a Bezoar, I guess?'

'I did,' Harry said. 'I forced it down your throat and then Portkeyed you to St Mungo's, together with Hermione. She'd bottled a sample of the poison and helped the healers to brew the antidote.'

She smiled at him. 'I knew you'd turn out to have been the one who saved me. I suppose without the Bezoar I'd be dead by now?'

A dark shadow went across his face, and he nodded.

She put her hand on his arm. 'Don't think about it, honey. I survived, and that's all that counts.'

Harry took a deep, shuddering breath. 'Yeah, you survived, but at what cost! The healer told me that the antidote they brewed has abortive properties. But there was no other way to restore your health; the Bezoar had barely kept you alive, and even with the antidote it was touch and go for a while.'

He sprung up from his chair and paced the room. 'I still have no idea what happened, but I know that Hermione's potion didn't turn into a poison on its own accord or because of a mistake she made.' He stopped and whirled around to her. 'So, that only leaves the conclusion that someone messed with her potion. During the last two days I asked myself over and over again who was the intended victim - Hermione … or you?'

He trembled, and his hands were clenched into fists so that the knuckles stood out white.

Her heart broke at the sight of the unmasked fear on his face. She held out her arms to him.

'Come here, honey.'

He didn't hesitate, and she still held him when the door opened and someone cleared their throat.

Harry straightened and turned around. 'Healer Payne,' he greeted the man who had entered the room.

Healer Payne stepped to her bed and looked down at her. 'Good morning, Mrs Potter. I'm glad to see you're awake. How are you feeling?'

Daphne grimaced. 'Sore.'

'I imagine,' Healer Payne said, sympathy shining in his eyes. 'That was to be expected after the massive burn you suffered, although the poisoning was much worse. Mr Potter informed me about … your condition. I'm terribly sorry -'

She held up her hand to stop him. 'Harry already told me.' Something caught in her throat, and she couldn't go on.

Healer Payne gave her a soft smile, full of understanding, and patted her hand. 'It pains me that the treatment we gave you terminated your pregnancy, but as it is, we were barely able to save you.' He took a deep breath and pulled out his wand. 'Let me give you what is hopefully a final examination; if your skin has healed as it should, there's no reason to keep you here any longer.'

With a flick of his wand, he vanished the bandages around her hands. The regrown skin looked smooth and healthy, albeit a trifle pinkish.

Healer Payne took her hand in his and examined it. 'That's excellent, though I'll have to advise you to refrain from unprotected manual labour for a while, such as cutting potion ingredients or gardening.'

She made a face to that. Where was the point of gardening if you didn't feel the earth and the growing plants under your fingers? However, she nodded.

Harry gave her a quick smile. 'I'll see to that, Healer Payne.'

Healer Payne then examined her chest, with the same result. 'Excellent,' he said, and helped her to readjust her hospital gown. 'You are free to leave anytime. Though I have to warn you. I'm afraid the press got notice of your accident, Mrs Potter. Reporters have camped out in the entrance hall for the last three days.'

Daphne glanced at Harry.

He grimaced. 'I should've expected that. Is it possible to leave this room by Apparition?'

Healer Payne shook his head. 'Ever since the start of the last war we have improved our security. Nobody gets inside or outside by Apparition, not even by elf Apparition. The only way to Apparate in or out is through the Apparition point in the entrance hall, or you'll have to exit to the Muggle world.'

Harry hardly ever swore, but the expletive he now used made Healer Payne raise his eyebrows. Harry gave the healer a sheepish smile. 'Sorry.'

'It's alright, Mr Potter.' He paused and looked to the ground, as if he debated what to say next. 'There's one thing more I need to tell you. Though it is very unlikely, the antidote we had to give Mrs Potter might have long lasting effects on her ability to conceive.'

A jolt went through Daphne. The air left her lungs as if a Troll's cub had hit her diaphragm. 'You mean, I am barren?' she asked with the little breath she had left.

Healer Payne spread out his hands and shrugged his shoulders. 'We cannot say for sure, that depends on many factors, Mrs Potter. You might not experience any problems at all, you might find it impossible to conceive again, or it maybe somewhere in between.'

Ice spread in her stomach. 'I… impossible?'

Harry stepped beside her and put his arm around her shoulder. Small tingles went through her body where he touched her. The ice spread until it reached her heart. Harry wanted a family so badly ...

'Did I get that right, it's a possibility, and not a certainty?' Harry's voice cut through the fog of despair that threatened to swallow her.

'You heard me correctly, Mr Potter.'

Healer Payne sighed again. 'I don't expect any complications because of your miscarriage, Mrs Potter. It was still very early in your pregnancy, so it's affects will feel like a rather heavy period. The usual Painkiller Potion and Anti-Cramp Potion most witches keep at home for those cases should suffice to help you through the physical aspects of the treatment. The grief and feeling of loss you undoubtedly experience right now is another matter and will take its time to heal.'

He then told them goodbye and left the room.

Harry tightened his grip around her shoulder and gave her a kiss on her bent head.

'Stop brooding, darling.'

She bit her lips and looked to the ground. Harry had been so happy about her pregnancy, she ought to get pregnant again as soon as possible to make up for the loss he'd suffered. It was all her fault, if she hadn't left the group to talk to Hermione, nothing of this would've happened.

'It's a possibility,' Harry's voice cut into her morose thoughts. 'But we won't know for certain unless we keep trying in vain until we're old and grey. Or don't you want to practise anymore with me?'

Her head jerked up, and she gaped at him.

He gave her his lopsided grin, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

She shook her head, but had to laugh. 'You're such a prat. But I guess you're right.'

He put his other arm around her and hugged her. 'That's my girl. Come on, let's get out of here.'

She looked down at herself. 'Do you expect me to walk out of here in front of the international press in a hospital nightgown?'

'Of course not.' He pulled out his wand. The next second, he'd Transfigured the ugly hospital nightgown into a plain bra and knickers, sanitary pads included. Daphne shot him a thankful smile, and he smirked back. He reached over to the chair he had occupied the last two days, picked up his rumpled robes and helped her putting them on and closing the row of buttons at the front.

Though her heart was heavy in her chest because of Healer Payne's devastating news, Daphne had to chuckle at the sight of his robes hanging down on her, and the seams pooling on the floor.

'Oops,' Harry said. He pointed his wand at the robes and shrunk them until they fitted and smoothed out. Then he helped her into her pumps, the only piece of her clothing that had survived the incident.

'Can you do something about my hair?' she asked, and twirled a strand between her fingers. After three days in a hospital her hair probably looked like a rat's nest.

He pointed his wand at his vacated chair. 'Accio, tie!'

From the folds of the chair a rather rumpled looking tie in Gryffindor colors soared towards him. He snatched it out of the air and Transfigured it into a small headscarf, just big enough to hide her tousled hair.

'You're the best,' she said, gave him a peck on the cheek, and tied the headscarf around her head. 'What about you? I think you could use one of your infamous Glamour Charms. You look like shit, if I might say so.'

He put on his suit jacket and pointed his wand at himself. The rumples in his suit and shirt straightened, the pale skin of his face assumed a healthy glow, and the unkempt stubble on his chin arranged itself into a smart three-day stubble.

'Satisfied?' he asked, let his wand slip back into its holster, and bit back a yawn.

'Much better,' she said, and gave him another kiss on the cheek. 'Though I expect you to catch up on sleep as soon as we're back home.'

'Agreed.' He held his hand out to her. 'Come on, let's get it over with.'

Hand in hand they walked to the entrance hall. Healer Payne hadn't exaggerated, most of the rackety wooden chairs in the entrance hall were occupied by reporters; the cameras and notepads in their laps while the waited for them to appear were a dead give away.

Harry took a deep breath and placed his left hand on the door handle of the glass door that separated the corridor they were in from the entrance hall. 'Ready?'

She squared her shoulders. 'As ready as I'll ever be.'

He held the door open for her and put his free hand on the small of her back as she walked through the door ahead of him, then let go of the door handle and slipped his arm around her waist.

As soon as they entered the entrance hall, the reporters jumped up as one man and swooped down on them. Of course, Skeeter was in the lead, her notepad with the Quick Quotes Quill hovering beside her.

The next second, the horde was stopped by an invisible shield. Those in the lead were pressed against it by those who came last, and screamed with pain and anger, though that didn't keep them from shouting questions at them.

Daphne looked up at her husband. 'Did you cast a silent Shield Spell behind my back?'

He nodded, a grim line around his mouth. 'I won't allow those harpies to harass you on top of all you've been through.' He made another move behind her back, and the screams and shouts were extinguished.

Harry smiled down at her. 'You've got to love Silencing Charms.' He pulled his arm away from her and pointed his wandtip at his throat.

'My wife and I appreciate the concern of the public, however, Daphne still needs some rest after her accident, so we'll ask you to respect our privacy and let us return to our home. Our assistant will give out a press statement in due time,' he said in a magically amplified voice.

The reporters didn't look happy about that, and made no move to back away from the shield Harry had put up.

He slipped his wand back into its holster, put his hand at the small of her back, and propelled her towards the Apparition point. His shield moved with them, and behind the shield the reporters.

Daphne let out a breath when they reached the Apparition point, and took Harry's arm. He wasted no time, and the next second she found herself standing in their bedroom.

Her legs trembled and threatened to give out under her. She clung to Harry's arm and grimaced. 'It seems that mob got more to me than I thought.'

He led her to the bed and helped her lay down. 'You'd better take a nap. I'll ask Kreacher to prepare a light lunch for you when you're awake.'

'Good idea.' She yawned. 'What are you going to do?'

'I think I'll take a shower and join you after that,' Harry said, tucked the duvet around her, and gave her a small kiss.

She smiled. 'I'd love that.' The next moment, she was out like a light.

 _t.b.c._


	56. Chapter 53

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Many, many thanks to my fantastic editor Shygui, who sacrifices his spare time to edit my story. Since he's the professional in that area, I'm tickled pink he found my efforts to write about an investigation after a work place accident believable.

Chapter **53** **, 23/08/18**

* * *

 **53**

Harry looked down on his sleeping wife.

The traces of her fight for life were still visible on her face: her eyes were sunken into their sockets, with dark smudges beneath, and her skin was sallow even with the tan she'd acquired during their stay in Normandy.

He tried to swallow the bitter taste in his mouth, but his throat was choked. How could their life have turned from blissful happiness to mournful loss within the blink of an eye? His hands began to tremble, and he shoved them into the pockets of his trousers

Come to think of it, why was he of all people pondering this turn of events? After all, he'd experienced just that far too often in his still young life. He'd forgotten the lessons he'd learned in his early childhood, they had been washed away with the happy times he had shared with Daphne. If he'd lost her … He bit his bottom lip until he drew blood to stop the growl of frustration that was building in him.

She smiled in her sleep and cuddled deeper under the duvet. His nose caught a slight whiff of the familiar spicy scent that was Daphne.

Warmth spread in his chest, and he closed his eyes. Morgana and all other deities that were, magical and mundane, had been merciful; Daphne was still with him.

But whoever had done this to her was still out there.

Harry bent down, gave his sleeping wife a kiss on the forehead and traced the beautiful curve of her cheek with his fingertips, then straightened, squaring his shoulders, and took a deep breath. He cast a last look Daphne, turned around and left their bedroom. He had a lot of questions about what had happened, and he knew exactly the person to give him answers.

* * *

Five minutes later he strode into Cyrus' spacious office at the headquarters of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products.

Cyrus looked up from the papers in his hand. He froze, and his face turned pale. 'Daphne?'

Harry raised his hand in a placating gesture and slumped down on the hard chair in front of Cyrus' huge desk.

'She woke up this morning, and Healer Payne pronounced her well enough to leave the hospital. Right now she's napping. I have Kreacher sitting with her, he's got orders to get me as soon as she's awake. I don't want her to be alone right now. So, we don't have much time.'

He narrowed his eyes, and the muscles of his jaw tightened. His magic flared around him. 'I need to know what happened, and then I want five minutes alone with whoever did that to Daphne. The Aurors can dispose of what's left of him later.'

Cyrus flinched away from the physical touch of his magic. 'I don't think I've ever seen you this angry, Harry, not even -'

He broke off, glanced down at the papers in his hands and cleared his throat. However, when he looked back at Harry, there was no trace of uneasiness in his eyes. His gaze was as cool and calculating as always, and his bland face didn't give away his thoughts. He tossed the papers in his hands on the desk.

'Well, it might have been your best friend,' he said, and indicated with his hand at the papers in front of him. 'At least that's what Pince thinks, though I don't agree with him. I'm the economical brain of this business, and no potioneer, but even I can see that something in his report doesn't add up.'

He took a deep breath. 'I need you to fill me in. All I know is that I got a frantic call from Lisa in France on Monday who told me there had been an accident, Daphne was in hospital in a life-threatening condition, and you were with her and I was needed back here. The healer at St Mungo's refused to let me see you, and wouldn't even tell me what was going on, so all I could do was hold fort here and wait for news.'

Harry's chest tightened. He lowered his eyes and shifted in his seat. Daphne was still close to Cyrus, no matter what he'd done to her. There was a special bond between them not even Cyrus' despicable manipulations of her life had been able to destroy. Aside from what he'd done to them when he set them up to marry, Cyrus had never given him reason to doubt he loved his oldest daughter as much as she loved him - though he sometimes had a horrible way of expressing his love for her.

The man must've gone through hell during these last three days, just as he did when he sat beside Daphne's bed and urged her to fight for her life. He'd been so caught up in his own despair and sorrow that he'd not once spared a thought on Cyrus, or Isabella and Tori.

Warmth crept in his face, and he chewed on the inside of his cheek. 'I'm sorry. I should've thought that you, Isabella and Tori must be going out of your minds with worry, I should've taken the time to inform you. However, I didn't dare leave her -' He broke off; his eyes stung, and he covered his face with the palms of his hands.

'Don't think about it, son.' There was a lot of understanding in Cyrus' voice. 'Daphne needed you, and you were by her side as a good husband should. I don't begrudge your actions, Harry; hell, in your place I too would have been solely focussed on my family, and damn the rest of the world to the seventh pit of hell.'

Harry pulled his hands from his face and gave Cyrus something that hopefully looked like a smile. He took a deep breath; he needed to get a grip on himself, Cyrus wanted answers, and so did he, they needed to work together.

'Well, you scheduled that appointment with the American delegation for us on Monday. Daphne and I met with them and Pince, and Pince took us for a tour of the laboratory. We gathered around the cauldron of one of the new potioneers, Cadwallader. Pince explained what he was working on, but Daphne couldn't cope with the smell that emitted from his cauldron -.'

His voice faltered. They'd been so happy that morning. Daphne had shown first signs of her pregnancy, if her sudden aversion to smells was anything to go by. He'd been worried about her; she'd be the one to bear the brunt of the physical effects of their biggest wish coming true, and there was so little he could do to help her. At the same time, it had been so exciting and exhilarating to watch that small change in her…

He rubbed his face with the palms of his hands. Clinging to a past that never would become future wouldn't get him anywhere, that was another lesson he'd learned early in life.

'Daphne went over to Hermione's workplace, and they talked while Hermione finished the potion she was working on. I remember she warned Daphne to close her eyes before she added the next ingredient, Alihotsy leaves. She added the leaves, but instead of the smoke you'd expect to rise from the cauldron, the potion inside had a violent reaction, erupted from the cauldron and covered the front of Daphne's robes. I've never smelled something as repulsive as that potion, sour and acid. It burnt through Daphne's robes and her skin. She screamed, and I ran towards her. It was evident she was in horrible pains.'

He took a shuddering breath. 'I summoned the Emergency Portkey we keep in the laboratory for accidents, and tried to get her to St Mungo's, but she started to seizure. It was horrible, I thought the seizure would never end, and she was in so much pain! However, it ended … eventually, but then … but then …'

His throat constricted, and he covered his eyes with his hand.

'She stopped breathing.' The words were a mere whisper.

Cyrus waited in silence until he'd regained his composure.

'Hermione saved her,' Harry said, his voice hoarse. 'I had no idea what to do, but she kept her wits about herself and did the Arithmancy equations to find out what had happened. It took her only a few seconds, and she knew whatever had happened turned her potion poisonous, so I summoned a Bezoar and shoved it down Daphne's throat.'

Cyrus gave him a small, wane smile across his desk. 'You and Hermione still make a good team in an emergency, Harry. Thank you for saving my daughter.'

Harry shrugged and sank back in his uncomfortable chair. 'Well, that was about everything I could do. That, and Summoning a Portkey to get her to St Mungo's. Hermione came with me; she'd bottled a sample of the potion, and she helped the healers to brew the antidote. It's her you have to thank, without her we wouldn't have known what went on before it had been too late.'

He took another deep breath. 'That's why I'm here. I want to know how Hermione's potion could've turned into a lethal poison. I'm sure by now she'll have found the answer. We need to talk to her, and then we'll have to determine what to do next.'

Cyrus straightened in his seat. 'I agree.' He tipped with his index finger on the papers in front of him. 'Though, Pince doesn't. He's come to the conclusion that Hermione had made a mistake while preparing the Alihotsy leaves, and because of that the potion turned poisonous. He recommends laying her off.'

'What?' Harry sat bolt upright in his chair. Heat shot in his cheeks, and he clenched his hands around the arms of his chair, his knuckles turning white under his grip. He'd known that Pince was an idiot, but until today he hadn't truly grasped how big his idiocy was.

'What bullshit! I've read the reports about the Permanent-Hair-Curling Potion Pince's department is trying to develop. Hermione thinks it might be possible to translate the cheering effects of the Alihotsy leaves to a curl if the potion is used on the hair. The worst thing that could've happened, had she made a mistake preparing the leaves, would've been giving melancholy properties to her potion. Daphne probably would've got a crying fit, but that's all that could've happened.'

'That's what was bugging me about Pince's report,' Cyrus said with a nod. 'I couldn't put my finger on it, I knew he came to the wrong conclusion, but for the life of me I couldn't determine why. Oh well, I've always been mediocre at Potions, at best. James was better than I, and of course Lily was our Potion Mistress in the making.'

Harry's heart gave a small pang. Cyrus' had no idea what he did to him whenever he remembered his parents with such a casual remark. After all these years, their loss still hurt, but he'd also learned to enjoy each new tidbit he heard about them.

He shot his father-in-law a close-lipped smile. 'So, there's actually something you didn't excel in? Tell me, what grade did you get for your Potions N.E.W.T.?'

A slight tinge coloured Cyrus' cheeks, and he dipped his head down. 'An Acceptable,' he said, avoiding Harry's eyes.

Harry's smile turned into a weak grin. 'That's rich, coming from the man who expected me to have at least Es on all my N.E.W.T.s, and being among the top ten percent of my class for my B.A. and M.A. in Economics.'

Cyrus leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. 'Well, it seemed you respected me enough to follow my demands. If I remember correctly, you got an O, and you made it to the top, didn't you?'

A snort escaped Harry's lips. 'Right. But don't delude yourself, I didn't work my arse off because of you, but because I didn't want to find out what your daughter would've done to me if I hadn't met her expectations.'

He sobered. Daphne! How was she doing right now? Kreacher hadn't come yet to get him, so she must still be asleep. However, he needed to get on with his task.

'Do you mind if I ask Hermione to join us?' he asked his father-in-law.

Cyrus made an inviting gesture with his hand. 'Go ahead.'

Harry slipped his wand out of its holster and cast his Patronus. A few seconds later the majestic stag vanished to ask Hermione to join them.

He slipped his wand back and pointed towards the papers in front of Cyrus. 'May I have a look at what Pince thinks caused the … accident?'

'Be my guest,' Cyrus said, and pushed the papers towards him.

He grabbed the papers and leaned back in his chair to read. The frown on his face became deeper the farther he got. What was Pince thinking? Was he even thinking at all? The whole, so-called "report" of the cause of the incident was nothing more than a bunch of speculations and half truths. It was obvious he'd taken the whole mess as an opportunity to get rid of Hermione, there was no investigation at all. Did he really think Cyrus and him dumb enough to fall for this garbage? Merlin, he hadn't even done a proper analysis of the remains of the poisonous potion in Hermione's cauldron. On the contrary, he'd disposed of them as soon as possible.

Steps in front of Cyrus' office, then the voices of Fleur and Hermione, brought him back to the here and now. He tossed the papers back onto Cyrus' desk, his lips pressed together.

'I can tell you're as impressed with Pince's handling of the affair as I am,' Cyrus said, and gave him a shrewd side glance.

Harry snorted. 'You can say that again. Makes you wonder if he deliberately destroyed evidence that might have pointed towards him.'

A knock on the door interrupted him.

'Come in,' Cyrus called.

The door opened, and Hermione came into the room. Her steps were hesitant, and her eyes were guarded.

Cyrus and Harry both got up to greet her, Cyrus with a handshake, and Harry with a warm hug.

'Thank you, Hermione.' That was everything he managed to get out before his voice broke.

'Anytime, Harry.' Hermione returned his hug, though she lacked her usual fervour. Her movements were stiff and restrained.

They sat down. Hermione sat bolt upright, her eyes darted between him and Cyrus, her tongue flicked over her lips, and she had her hands clasped together in her lap.

Harry frowned. What by Merlin had got into her? This was not the Hermione he knew.

Cyrus cleared his throat. 'Hermione, there are no adequate words to express our gratefulness, still my family and I want to thank you for saving our daughter with your quick thinking. Without you, we would have lost one of those who is dearest to us in this world.'

Hermione startled; her eyes grew wide, and her cheeks pinked. 'You want to thank me? But I thought -. Well, Director Pince said -.'

She broke off and bit her lips, and the colour on her cheeks intensified.

Harry straightened. It seemed Pince was somehow the reason for Hermione's stressed behaviour. Well, after he read Pince's so-called report, he shouldn't be surprised about that.

Cyrus seemed to draw the same conclusions as he did when Hermione mentioned Pince. He shot Harry another quick side glance across the table, leaned forward on his desk, and looked at Hermione. 'What did Director Pince say?'

Again, Hermione bit her lips. 'He suspended me until you were ready to make a final decision, but indicated right from the beginning that I am going to be laid off for what I did. When you called me today, I thought -'

'That we were going to fire you?' Cyrus asked. 'Well, I was never one to fire an employee without investigating thoroughly beforehand. So, I never would have acted on Director Pince's recommendations alone, even if the report he wrote about the incident didn't seem off to me right from the beginning.'

At his words, Hermione relaxed in her seat; her body physically unwinded itself in front of Harry's eyes.

Harry put his hand on hers and gave it a light squeeze. 'Healer Payne told me you helped the healers at St Mungo's to analyse the poison and develop an antidote. I guess your findings will be documented in Daphne's patient record, but why don't you tell us what you found out? I imagine it will be quite different to what is in Pince's report.'

'I'd also like to hear what you discovered whilst helping my daughter,' Cyrus said.

'Alright.' Hermione took a deep breath. 'How familiar are you with the process of analysing a potion to determine its properties and ingredients?'

Cyrus' lips twitched. 'I hate to admit it, but count me as ignorant. Even my understanding of the test series that are done in the laboratory is limited. Reverse analysis is hardly ever necessary when developing a new potion, so it's not something I see in any of the regular reports.'

'I think you already had a good notion about the properties of the stuff that hit Daphne, based on the reaction you observed, and the ingredients you had used up to that point, didn't you, Hermione?' Harry asked.

Hermione nodded to that. 'Correct, Harry; all ingredients used in brewing potions store a certain amount of magic. When combined in a potion, the ingredients react to each other and release their magic. Since the ingredients are combined to create something new, most of that magic is bound into the potion, however, not all. What you identify as the telltale fumes or smells of a potion is nothing but the excess magic that's released. Are you following me so far?'

Harry and Cyrus nodded.

'Excellent. A good Potions Master knows everything about the average amount of magic stored in the ingredients they use, and how the way you prepare the ingredients influences the release of the magic, and of course also how the different ingredients are supposed to react with each other when combined. However, since all magical ingredients are gained from natural sources, their actual level of residual magic might differ from what we know about the average amount of magic they are supposed to have.'

'So I guess it depends on where an ingredient comes from?' Harry asked. 'For example, the blood of an Hungarian Horntail has a different amount of available magic than the blood of a Chinese Fireball, even though they are both dragon blood?'

Hermione nodded to that. 'Exactly. The age of the beast, its nutritional condition, and potentially even if it's male or female also play into that. These differences are why most wizards and witches find it difficult to brew potions and always get satisfying results. Instead, most of the magical world resort to ready-made potions. The potioneers who brew those potions are expected to deliver a product of consistent quality and potency. For that reason we've learned how to determine the amount of magic of the actual ingredients we use and adjust the recipes to make up for any differences to the average amount of magic they are supposed to have.'

She took a deep breath. 'That's what we did with the shipment of Alihotsy leaves I used for that potion. I knew the exact amount of magic they contained, and based on that and my knowledge of the ingredients I had already used, I knew how the potion was supposed to react.'

'And when the potion erupted out of the cauldron, you knew right then that something didn't add up,' Harry said.

Hermione snorted. 'Yeah, but that's not all. By the violent reaction I knew that something with a significantly more volatile magic had to have been put into my cauldron, like the time when Malfoy threw a Filibuster Firework into Neville's cauldron.'

Harry startled. 'How could that have happened to you? I thought you always put up a shield around you with a rune on your cauldron?'

'Not always,' Hermione said. 'Although the rune only creates a weak field of magic, that field interacts with the potion in the cauldron. I know how to circumvent that effect when brewing an already developed potion, or during an analysation, but when developing a new potion, that kind of magical interference is not desirable.'

'Ah, I see,' Harry said.

'As I said before, I knew right from the moment the accident happened that the potion must have been turned into something dangerous. My knowledge of what went into the potion up to that moment, and from what I could see by the way that potion reacted, enabled me to do a first phase Arithmancy calculation. By eliminating all other possibilities this calculation determined that the potion had become poisonous, and that it was probably lethal.' A violent shudder went through her body, and she covered her face with her hands.

Harry bent towards her and put an arm around her shoulders.

She looked up to him. 'I don't dare think of what would've happened, if you hadn't Summoned the Bezoar that fast.'

He gave her shoulder a small squeeze. 'Then don't think of it. I never would've thought that Daphne had been poisoned without your warning, Hermione.'

Cyrus cleared his throat. 'As I said to you before, Harry, you and Hermione make a good team. But I still don't understand what happened to turn Hermione's potion into a poison.'

'I think I do,' Harry said with a last pat on Hermione's back, and straightened. 'I guess the Alihotsy leaves never made it into the potion, and have been replaced with something else. Am I right, Hermione?'

'Yes, you are.' She nodded. 'When we analysed the sample I scraped up from the bottom of my cauldron, we didn't find a trace of Alihotsy leaves. What we found, however -.' Again, a violent shudder went through her body.

Harry sucked in a sharp breath. The findings must be horrible, given Hermione's reaction.

'This isn't your fault Hermione, so just say it, what did you find instead?' His eyes never left her face.

'The toxin of the Golden Poison Frog,' she said, and her face assumed a slight green tinge.

Harry's stomach turned into a ball of ice, and an almost paralysing cold spread through his veins. He had heard about that frog, a long time ago, in Muggle primary school. Bile rose in his throat, and he gasped. 'Isn't that the poison the native tribes in South America used for their arrows to kill their enemies?'

Cyrus shook his head. 'I don't think I ever heard of that.'

'That poison and its properties is not part of the curriculum for the N.E.W.T.s,' Hermione said. 'It's also hardly used in potions because of its acute toxicity.' She nodded at Harry. 'You're right; you probably learned about it at Muggle primary school, or watching a documentary on the telly.'

'How in the world got such an exotic poison into one of our laboratories?' Cyrus asked, a deep frown on his face, and straightened in his chair.

'It's probably included in the series of tests the Department for Magical Research and Development are right now conducting to develop a new shampoo against dandruff,' Harry said. 'Pince mentioned on Monday that they are experimenting with animal poison and venom, though he didn't mention that poison explicitly. However, he listed the poisonous animals he wanted to buy for that test series in his last budget plan. I remember he had different exotic frogs listed, too. Didn't you read that part?'

Cyrus shook his head. 'No, at least not to that detail. I remember that Pince suggested a test series with animal poisons and venoms. It sounded interesting and worth exploring. Since his planned budget was overall within sensible limits, I approved. Had I known -.' He broke off and covered his eyes with his hand.

'The Golden Poison Frog, or Phyllobates terribilis, is endemic to the rainforest on the pacific coast of Columbia,' Hermione said. 'It's skin is densely coated in an alkaloid toxin. The average wild Phyllobates terribilis is generally estimated to contain about one milligram of poison, enough to kill about ten-thousand mice. This dose is enough to kill between ten and twenty humans, which correlates to up to two African bull elephants.'

A sharp pain went through Harry's body. Daphne had had to fight such a vile poison? He pulled at his collar, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. A fine husband he was. She'd been assaulted and almost killed right in front of him, and he hadn't been able to protect her.

A warm hand covered his hand that was curled into a fist on his thigh. 'Are you alright, Harry?'

He opened his eyes and looked into Hermione's concerned eyes. 'No, I'm not. I'm livid that I let such a cowardly attack happen right under my nose. Seems I've become complacent and careless over the last five years.'

'You've got no reason to blame yourself, son,' Cyrus said. His face was ashen. 'Nobody could have expected something like that. I had no idea how dangerous that poison is, or I never would've agreed with that test series. What was Pince thinking to suggest to include such a dangerous ingredient into a shampoo?'

Harry let out a harsh laugh. 'I told you before, I doubt he's capable of thinking.'

Hermione shook her head. 'You're too hard on him, Harry. He's a mostly excellent Potions Master. His idea to use animal poisons and venoms has merits, and if we happen to find a way to neutralise the poisonous properties while keeping the desired properties, that'll be a big break-through in the history of potion brewing.'

Harry took another deep breath. His fist slowly uncurled. 'Whatever, Hermione. That doesn't bring us any closer to answering to the question who did it and why.'

'I agree,' Cyrus said. 'Maybe we should start by finding out if Pince actually ordered Golden Poison Frog skin, and if yes, what became of the skin Pince ordered.'

He picked up his phone and pressed the button for the outer office. 'Fleur, could you get us the ledgers of the storage of all potion ingredients? We'll also need all test reports from last Monday on.'

He put back the receiver, and Harry quirked an eyebrow at him. 'Why everything? We'll only need the ledger of the storage room for the dangerous ingredients, and the reports of Abbott and Pyke.'

Cyrus used his index finger to indicate Pince's report Harry had tossed back on his desk. 'You said yourself that this report makes it look as if Pince is trying to get rid of evidence that points to him. What if he is the one who's behind all that? I don't want to give our hand away. It's not unusual that I want to see the test reports of ongoing series, or have a look at the storage ledgers. But it would raise Pince's suspicion if I singled out certain days or ingredients.'

'You've got a point there,' Harry said, nodding his understanding. He leaned back in his chair to wait for Fleur getting the items for them. However, each second seemed to be an eternity. He took a look at his wristwatch. How long would Daphne still be asleep? Should he return and sit by her side, in case she woke up? She'd been heartbroken about the news of her miscarriage, and would need some time to get over it, especially in the light of possible problems to have another child. She shouldn't be all alone and brood.

He shifted in his seat. What was taking Fleur so long? He cast an impatient look at the door and tapped his thigh with his fingers.

'Stop that, Harry, you're making me nervous, and it doesn't make things go faster,' Hermione said, and put her hand on his to prevent him from tapping. 'Tell me how Daphne is doing.'

'Better,' he said, and gave her a small smile. 'Or I wouldn't be sitting here. She's been released from hospital this morning, but of course she's still shaken up by what happened.'

'Quite understandable,' Hermione said. 'Is she up for visitors yet? I -'

She was interrupted by the door opening. Fleur came into the room and put a stack of folders and ledgers in front of Cyrus. She gave Harry and Hermione a small smile, and left as quietly as she had come.

Cyrus shifted through the stack in front of him until he had found what he'd been searching for. He pulled out a thin folder and opened it. 'These are Abbott and Pyke's test reports,' he said, and leafed through the thin folder. 'Ah, here's the report from last Monday.'

He put the folder in front of him, and beckoned to Harry and Hermione to come around the desk and read together with him.

Not surprising, Hermione found the information they had been looking for first. 'Abbott worked with the skin of the Golden Poison Frog,' she said, and put her finger on the line where Abbott had listed the ingredients used in the test potion he had brewed that morning. She furrowed her eyebrows. 'However, he only used a small part of the skin. Was that all he had? If no, I wonder what became of the rest.'

'That's a valid question,' Cyrus nodded. He put the folder with Abbott's report aside and pulled the ledger for the storage room for the dangerous ingredients towards himself and opened it. His finger moved down the column of the stored ingredients, until it came to Golden Poison Frog skin.

Harry's breath hitched. He put a hand on Cyrus' shoulder and bent closer to have a better look. There it all was. The laboratory had bought the skins of two Golden Poison Frogs. Abbott had begun experimenting with that skin on that fateful Monday morning, and had taken out one skin for that purpose. According to his report, he'd only used a small part of that skin for the first test potion. The series hadn't been continued that day after Daphne's … accident.

'The rest of the skin, however, never made it back into the storage room,' he said and straightened, a grim line around his mouth.

Hermione put a finger on the line Cyrus had pointed out, and gasped as she obviously stumbled across something. She pulled the biro and notepad on Cyrus' desk towards her and scribbled down what seemed to be another very complicated Arithmancy equation.

Harry and Cyrus exchanged a look over her head, but kept quiet not to disturb her concentration.

After a couple of minutes, Hermione straightened with a pale face. She pointed with the tip of the biro at a number at the bottom of her row of equations. 'When we did the analysis at St Mungo's, we were able to find out the total amount of poison that went into my cauldron. It matches to within a couple of decimal places with the properties of the missing remains of the frog skin that are listed in the ledger.'

Harry took a deep breath. 'So, we know how it was done. Somebody switched the Alihotsy leaves you were going to add to the potion with the skin of the Golden Poison Frog Abbott was working with.'

Hermione nodded to that. 'Yes; unfortunately, the Switching Spell is such a popular prank spell that by the end of first year all Hogwarts students are proficient with it, even though it isn't taught before fourth year. It doesn't require much power, only a very focussed intent, so it isn't hard to cast without a wand for a qualified wizard or witch, they could have switched it just as I emptied the bowl holding my prepared leaves over my cauldron, I wouldn't have noticed as I had my eyes closed for that first hit of smoke. The error in my calculations is most likely due to some Alihotsy sap that had dribbled into the bottom of the bowl that was collected by the skin as it was switched in.'

'Then all we have to do is to find out who of the many people in that laboratory were near enough to cast that spell, and who had a grudge on you or Daphne big enough to want to kill you.' He rubbed his face with the palms of his hands. 'Should be a piece of cake, really.'

'Whoever did it might not necessarily have wanted to kill,' Cyrus contradicted. 'He or she might just have used what was at hand without knowing what results that would have. Also, the attack might not have been aimed at Daphne specifically. Hermione is also a likely victim, or maybe the attacker acted out of a grudge against our company in general.'

Hermione bit her lips, but didn't answer.

Harry sucked in a sharp breath. Obviously, she disagreed with Cyrus' conclusion. He looked from Hermione to Cyrus. 'We'd better adjourn the discussion about who might behind this to a more private place. Also, I want to bring Ron in.'

Cyrus gave an involuntary sharp movement at that.

Harry shook his head. 'I know how you are feeling about involving the Aurors, Cyrus. Damn it, if it was possible to keep this under the rug, I'd do that and take my own retribution. However, what if that was a purposeful attack on Daphne? The Aurors have better means to investigate than we do.'

Cyrus let out a deep sigh. 'You're right, Harry. What do you suggest?'

'We're going to meet tonight at Grimmauld Place and have a council of war. Daphne will have my hide if I don't let her have a say in this, too.'

 _t.b.c._


	57. Chapter 54

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** A heartfelt thank you to my fantastic beta Shygui, who found a plot hole in this chapter and helped me fix it over the next couple of chapters.

Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. I'm travelling, and while the campground where we stayed yesterday was _supposed_ to have WLAN, it wasn't available in the corner ehere they had put us.

Chapter **54** , 27/08/18

* * *

 **54**

Daphne's eyelids fluttered open. Warmth surrounded her, she yawned and stretched her arms. The last vestiges of a very pleasant dream still played in her mind, but faded away before she could remember what it had been about. In spite of her refreshing nap, her body felt heavy, leaden even, as if she was recovering from a severe illness. She stretched again. Then it hit her.

The exploding cauldron.

Waking up in the hospital bed.

Harry's pale face.

… And the baby nobody knew about, except Harry and her.

It had been no more than a mere idea, many would say, and yet it had been so real to her. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she blinked them away. Harry didn't need to see her cry, he'd been through too much already without having to be burdened with her sorrow.

She turned her head to Harry's side.

The bed was empty, not even a dent in his pillow to indicate that he'd taken the nap he'd spoken of.

She furrowed her eyebrows. 'Harry?'

'Master came home five minutes ago and fell asleep on the couch in the family room.'

Kreacher's bullfrog voice almost startled her out of her skin, and she jerked her head around.

The ancient house elf slid from a stool he'd sat on next to her bed. 'Master told Kreacher to get him as soon as Mistress was awake."

'Wait, Kreacher.' She held out her arm to stop the elf.

'But Master said -'

'It's alright, Kreacher, I don't want you to wake up Harry. Merlin knows he needs some sleep. I'll tell him I ordered you not to wake him, and I forbid you to do anything to yourself because of this!'

'Mistress is too kind to Kreacher.' The old house elf bowed and then popped away.

She cast away the duvet and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The room seemed to sway as she sat up, a reminder that she'd been at death's door not so long ago. She waited until the swaying had mostly subsided, and stood up to go to the bathroom, her movements slow and deliberate, and she held to the bedposts to steady herself. It wouldn't do to crash headlong to the floor.

A long shower helped a lot to get her circulatory system back to some sort of working order. She towelled herself dry, pulled out her wand and summoned fresh underwear, soft jogging pants, and an even softer sweater from the wardrobe.

A dragging pain in her abdomen reminded her of the need to line her panties with a sanitary pad. Again, she had to blink away the tears. This was nothing else than her normal period; if she repeated that often enough she might even believe it. She could have lost the baby, anyway, even without the … accident. It had still been that early in her pregnancy …

In spite of her reasoning, a small voice within her insisted that without her being poisoned by the potion she never would have lost the baby.

Enough! She bit on her lower lip and straightened. It wouldn't help her in anyway to lose herself in what ifs; she'd only become more miserable if she went down that path. She ought to move on and trust that her next pregnancy would come to a successful end, whenever that might be - if it would ever be.

A cold hand gripped around her heart, and her breath hitched in her throat. Their marriage was based on a carefully maintained construct of mutual goals and dreams, the biggest of them was their combined hope for a family. They had managed to build up a strong friendship and genuine affection between them from that foundation. Sometimes she'd thought they were even at the brink of more, something wonderful, especially during these two weeks in France, and when she'd told Harry of her pregnancy.

Tears again filled her eyes. Would their marriage survive the threat of childlessness? Would Harry become disappointed with his barren wife at some point and turn from her, to look for what she couldn't give him somewhere else?

Would he turn to the Weaselette, for example? Given her family background, that bitch surely was fertile enough to pop out a whole Quidditch team as soon as she was ready to end her career.

She startled. Now, where had that thought come from?

She frowned, grabbed for the jogging pants and slipped them on.

For almost five years, ever since she'd resolved to trust Harry and devote herself to their relationship as it was, she'd hardly thought of the bitch. Of course it had helped that she'd decided to stay on the other side of the Atlantic.

A snort escaped her, and she curled her lips and scrunched up her nose. She picked up the sweater, pulled it over her head, and went to the washbasin to blow dry her hair.

The hunting-grounds were surely more profit-yielding over there than back home, given the Weaselette's two short, yet very rich marriages within not even five years. She wouldn't have been able to find two rich husbands in such short succession in magical Britain, that much was sure.

She slipped her wand into her hand and pointed the tip at her hair. Hot air came out of it, and her expertly cut hair arranged itself with a silent, additional spell.

The wealth in magical Britain still was concentrated among a few, very old families. Most of them had supported Voldemort, and had lost most of their wealth in the aftermath. Those who didn't still prided themselves on their class. None of their scions ever would've considered a brassy, ill mannered professional Quidditch player from an impoverished family as a bride. Yes, the Weaselette had been well advised to look for a rich husband outside of magical Britain.

She slipped her wand back into the holster and grabbed for her brush to give her hair the finishing touch.

Of course, the absence of the bitch had been a heaven sent intervention for Harry's and her relationship. They had been happy during these years. Harry hadn't pined after the Weaselette anymore - at least she didn't think so. Maybe he'd just become better at hiding his feelings? Why else would have Elias' remark about the way the Weaselette had fleeced him when they got divorced make Harry retreat into himself like he'd done during the early months of their marriage, when he tried to come to grips with his feelings and hide them from her?

Daphne put the brush back onto the marble top of the washbasin, then leaned against it with her hands and sighed. She looked at her pale face in the mirror and worried her lower lip between her teeth. No, she was reading too much into Harry's reaction, ever since that Christmas Day he never had given her reason to think he wasn't over the bitch. She was probably overreacting. Her hormones still had to settle down, but right now they were very likely creating havoc with her brain, and she was beside herself with grief.

The latter was also true for Harry.

Daphne took a deep breath to center herself. It was about time to stop her pity-party and think about her husband. Why had he left the house while she was sleeping, and where had he gone when he was supposed to take a nap with her to recover from the ordeal he had been through?

She turned around and walked down the three stories to the family room on the lower ground floor. She stopped at the threshold, a hand on the doorframe.

Harry was sound asleep on the sofa. However, he still wore the clothes he had worn in the hospital.

She narrowed her eyes and gave him a sharp look. Yes, his Glamour Charm was still intact; he hadn't taken the time to shower and make himself more comfortable before he had left the house. Why?

Harry shifted in his sleep, his brows furrowed, and he groaned.

Damn it, he had a nightmare. This hadn't happened in years, at least not that she knew of. Given that he tended to thrash around and make a lot of noise whenever he had a nightmare, she would have been woken up by that, so she was pretty sure he had been free of that affliction for a long time.

Daphne rushed towards him. She sank down on the edge of the sofa beside him, and caressed the frown between his brows with her fingertips.

'Shh, it's alright, Harry. You're fine, nothing is going to happen to you, I won't let it.'

She sighed; she should have expected something like this. Afterall, Harry was grieving as much as she did, maybe even more, but he wouldn't want her to see that as long as she was still recovering from her injuries and the miscarriage. A small smile appeared on her lips, and she bent down to kiss the furrow between his brows. He was still such a ridiculously chivalrous Gryffindor. As if she wouldn't want to be there for him and help him through this dark time, just like he would be there for her.

The furrow smoothed out under her lips. Harry shifted in his sleep and let out a small sigh.

'I'm sorry, Ginny!'

Daphne froze, and her stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. Had she heard that right? His voice had barely been audible. She bit her lips; no doubt, he had called the bitch's name in his sleep.

She pushed herself back into a sitting position so fast that the room seemed to spin around her for a few seconds, and looked down on her sleeping husband. His eyebrows were still slightly furrowed, and he seemed uncomfortable.

Was he having a nightmare about the day he had to break up with the Weaselette because Father had forced him to marry her? Oddly enough, that memory had not been among the many horrible memories he had been forced to deal with when he took the _Renouvellement Potion_ , and up to now it never had come up in one of his nightmares, either.

How was she supposed to deal with that? Usually, she'd wake him up and gently encourage him to talk about whatever had plagued him in his dreams. But things were different when it came to the Weaselette. Something in Harry's demeanour had always indicated that this topic was off limits, and she had always respected his boundaries.

Harry groaned and shifted again in his sleep.

She had to help him somehow. She put a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently. 'Wake up, Harry, you're having a nightmare.'

He froze in his sleep, then opened his eyes wide and stared at her, unfocused, for a long moment, until his eyes became clear. A smile crept over his face, and he sat up and put his arms around her.

'I'm sorry I wasn't there when you woke up.' He gave her a small kiss, and a frown appeared on his face. 'Why didn't Kreacher get me?'

'Because I told him not to,' she said, and snuggled against him. 'He said you'd just come home and fallen asleep, so I ordered him not to wake you. I'm sorry that I had to wake you, but you had a nightmare.' She turned her face up to him. 'Do you want to talk about it?'

He shook his head. 'That would be useless; I already forgot everything about it.' However, a slight pink tinge dusted his cheekbones, and his eyes didn't meet hers.

Why was he lying to her? Was he feeling uncomfortable about talking to her of all people about the Weaselette, or was something more behind his reticence?

He gave her no time to think about it. He pulled his arms off her and swung his legs over the edge of the sofa. A huge yawn escaped him, and he hastened to cover it with his hand. 'Anyway, I don't think I'm going to be able to get back to sleep. I'd better take a shower. Maybe you can ask Kreacher to prepare a few sandwiches for us? I don't think I've had a proper meal for days, and you look as if you've lost some weight while you were unconscious.'

She nodded to that and also got up. While Harry went upstairs, she walked into the kitchen and ordered a plate of sandwiches and tea.

Not even fifteen minutes later Kreacher placed a plate with sandwiches on the coffee table in the family room, together with a steaming tea pot and cups and plates for Harry and her. She could already hear Harry's footsteps on the staircase, so she prepared a cup of tea for him as he liked it.

Harry entered the room as she just put back the teapot.

'Thank you, darling,' he said, dropped a kiss on her head, and sat down beside her on the sofa. He picked up his cup and took a thirsty gulp, then selected a sandwich from the plate and bit into it.

Daphne also took a sandwich, but it tasted like cardboard, and she had to wash it down with some tea, or it would have got stuck in her throat. However, Harry would worry if she didn't eat something, given her usual hearty appetite, so she managed to get the damned thing down somehow. Hopefully it would stay there; it sat in her stomach like a load of bricks.

'Where have you been while I was asleep?' she asked. Of course she wanted to know, but she had also to divert him from her lack of appetite. Merlin knew he was much too perceptive for her taste and wouldn't need long to pick up on that without a proper distraction.

Harry held his cup out to her for a refill. 'I wanted to know what had happened to you; as I already told you after you woke up this morning, I couldn't believe that the Alihotsy leaves Hermione had added to the potion would cause such a reaction.'

Her hands didn't tremble when she poured fresh tea into his cup. Neither did her voice. 'That was surely an unexpected reaction,' she said, and put the teapot down.

Harry let out a harsh laugh. 'That, my dear, is the understatement of the century. I went to headquarters while you were asleep. Your family needed to be informed about your recovery, and I wanted to talk to Hermione. She helped the healers at St Mungo's to analyse the potion and brew the antidote, so she was the most likely person to have the answers I needed.' His eyes looked like green thunderclouds, and he'd pressed his lips into a tight, white line.

A weight settled down on her chest. Her knees clasped together, she picked up her cup and sipped. Her hands still didn't tremble, but her fingers were all of a sudden ice cold. What had he found out? Going by the expression on Harry's face, it had to be serious.

She put the cup back onto the saucer and took a calming breath. 'Will you tell me what you've found out?'

He grabbed her hand with fingers as cold as hers. 'Of course I will, Daph. You need to know what's going on, there's nothing worse than being left in the dark about important things in your life you ought to know to make an informed decision.'

She leaned her head against his shoulder. Harry knew what he was talking about, Dumbledore's refusal to talk to him in his fifth year had led him to the biggest mistake in his life, and caused him to lose the only father he'd ever known. She couldn't recall how many nights of sleep she'd lost over countless mugs of hot cocoa after another of his nightmares about the Battle at the Ministry, while she tried to make him understand that Sirius' death also had been Dumbledore's fault for treating him like an ignorant child as much as it had been Sirius' own fault for becoming cocky and toying with Bellatrix Lestrange when he should have killed her as fast as possible.

Harry gave her a kiss on the top of her head and took a deep breath.

Daphne braced herself.

However, nothing in her life had prepared her for the tale of horror he revealed to her. She had survived being poisoned with one of the most deadliest poisons on this planet? If Hermione had not kept her head on her shoulders and found out what had happened to her mere seconds after the incident, if Harry hadn't summoned the Bezoar …

A violent shudder went through her body, and her breath came in short, laboured gasps. She clenched her hands into fists. No, she'd better not think about the consequences, or she'd go crazy.

Harry put his arms around her, pulled her close, and murmured soft words of comfort into her hair.

She took another deep, calming breath. Now was not the moment to lose her nerves, she could deal with her shock later. She wanted answers. Who had done that to her and her baby, and why?

As always, Harry's presence helped more to calm her down than any breathing exercise. She straightened up in Harry's arms and looked at him. 'Have you any idea who might have done it and why?'

He shook his head. 'Not yet. However, Cyrus, Hermione and Ron are coming over for dinner tonight and a council of war. Cyrus is not happy about this, he'd rather not involve the Aurors, but I told him this can't be kept under the rug, not when your life was at stake. At least Ron will try to keep it a confidential investigation.'

'Father's right, I'd also rather not have the incident become public knowledge. Can you imagine what Skeeter will make out of it? An exotic poison, and the wife of the Chosen One almost killed by a potion his alleged first love had brewed. She doesn't need more ingredients for one of her infamous stories. Merlin, that will probably pay her rent for years!'

Harry snorted. He put his hand under her chin, tilted her head up, and gave her a soft kiss. 'I'm glad you're not freaking out about this.'

Daphne averted her eyes and shrugged. 'What's going to be accomplished by that? I refuse to let myself being intimidated by that … incident. I want answers, and then I want five minutes alone with whoever has done that to us. I don't think a court session will be needed after that.'

Harry pulled her towards him with a small chuckle, though it didn't sound happy. 'You know, I said almost the same to Cyrus this morning, so you're going to have to get in line behind me.'

She leaned against him, and they relapsed into a familiar silence.

However, her thoughts raced behind the calm face she presented to her husband. Who was behind this? Was someone out there to murder her? Or had it just been a freak accident?

She sighed and shifted in Harry's arms. No, she oughtn't to brood about that right now, it would only make her anxious. She'd better wait and see with what the Aurors would come up. There'd be time enough to freak out then.

It didn't take long, and Harry dozed off again, his head leaned against the backrest of the sofa.

Daphne scooted into the corner of the sofa to give him more room.

Harry opened his eyes for a split second, gave her a heartwarming smile, and stretched out on the sofa, his head in her lap, and fast asleep the next moment.

Her fingers massaged his scalp, and he let out a sigh of contentment in his sleep. She looked down on his relaxed face, and her heart glowed. These private moments with Harry were special; nowadays most of their time was spent out in the public, and Harry had learned how to guard his expression the hard way, thanks to Father's stern tutelage during the last five years.

He'd grown into his own during these years, and had become a quiet, confident man who didn't need to spread his feathers like a peacock to make people follow his lead. Of course it helped in the magical world that he was the Vanquisher-of-Evil, as _The Daily Prophet_ called him regularly. His reputation in the magical world was surely larger than life.

But the Muggles they had to deal with daily, and who didn't know anything about Harry's fame, were just as affected by his charisma.

Only she and his closest friends knew the vulnerable, yet so tender and caring husband and friend beneath the layers of fame, wealth and influence.

She bent down and pressed a kiss in his silken hair, and he smiled in his sleep.

Her chest tightened, and her shoulders slumped. What if she couldn't give him the only thing he'd ever cared about in his life - a family of his own to cherish and care for? Had she the right to bind him to herself if Healer Payne's warning became true and she'd fail to conceive for years?

Silent tears ran down her cheek. She didn't bother to wipe them away. For the rest of the afternoon she sat in silence and watched how the shadows in the sunlit garden outside became longer, while the family room gradually became darker.

A couple of hours later Harry stretched and sat up. He yawned, rubbed his face with the palms of his hands, and cast her a small smile. 'Sorry, Daph, I didn't mean to use you as my pillow all afternoon long.'

The smile froze on his face, he cast her a sharp look, scooted nearer and wrapped his arms around her.

Damn it, he must have noticed the tear tracks on her cheeks.

He cupped her cheek with one hand and gently forced her to look at him. He had cancelled the Glamour Charm when he took the shower, and the dark shadows under his eyes that told of too little sleep and too much worry during the last couple of days were prominent once again.

She gulped and cast her eyes down. He didn't deserve that, she had to do something about it.

His lips touched her forehead, as soft as a butterfly. 'Don't cry, darling, we're going to get through this.'

Maybe, maybe not. Anyway, it still would be her fault. Why in Merlin's name had she walked to Hermione's workplace? She should have dealt with the nauseating fumes coming from Cadwallader's cauldron, it probably wouldn't have been the last time during her pregnancy a smell made her gag, but no, she had to be the delicate Pureblood princess and try to avoid the smell. Her idiocy had killed his child, and she didn't deserve him being that understanding.

Tears welled up in her eyes yet again, and she pulled away from him and averted her face.

'Daphne?' His voice sounded bewildered, and his hand rubbed her back in a soothing circle.

Her tears flowed freely now, all she could do was shaking her head and pulling away from him even farther.

His hand dropped off her back, and she heard him retreating into the other corner of the sofa.

Again, silence dropped between them, this time, however, a strained one, while she sniffled quietly. Of course he wouldn't understand what made her withdraw from him, Merlin, she also had no idea why she acted that way. She wanted nothing more than seek the comfort in his arms she didn't deserve, and her heart yearned for him to overcome her barriers and show her that she was worth it in spite of what she'd done.

Of course, he didn't do that. As always, he respected her boundaries and didn't pressure her. How was he supposed to know she wanted to do him just that?

A man who really loved her would know what was going on …

She startled. What an idiotic thought was that? Maybe that would be true for a Legilimens, but as long as she averted her eyes, even the most skilled Legilimens would be at a loss about her conflicting feelings. Merlin, these hormones were really wreaking havoc on her brain. Instead of wallowing in self-pity, she ought to get a grip on herself.

She flicked her wand, conjured a handkerchief and cleaned her nose, then turned around to her husband.

His eyes were dark and troubled, and he let out a deep breath.

'I'm sorry, honey.' Again, her chin trembled. How could she treat him that way, heap even more worry on his shoulders, after the hell she'd put him through since the incident?

The next moment she was in his arms again. 'Shh, it's alright, darling.'

She succumbed to another crying fit, and Harry comforted her through it. Finally, she pulled away.

'Oh gad, I must look horrible,' she said, and wiped the last tears away.

Harry gave her his devastating smile. 'You look as beautiful as always, only a little puffy around the eyes.'

She kissed him on the cheek. 'You're biased, but thank you for the compliment nevertheless.'

The clock on the mantelpiece chimed six, breaking the mood between them somewhat.

'I'd better get changed,' she said and got up. 'Father, Hermione and Ron will be here in another ten minutes.'

Daphne didn't take the time to walk all the way, but apparated right into their bedroom. Her head throbbed from all the crying she'd done that afternoon, and there was a constant, dragging pain in her abdomen. Should she take a Pain-Relief-Potion?

She went over to her bathroom cabinet, but stopped. No, she wouldn't numb her pain, she'd bear it in remembrance of the life she'd lost. Maybe she was foolish to suffer, but somehow she knew that facing the pain now would help her to cope better in the long run.

She splashed cold water into her face until the throbbing in her head subsided, then flicked her wand and placed some Glamour Charms on herself to hide her pale cheeks and the smudges below her eyes. The pain in her abdomen was strong enough to make her wince at the thought of the waistband on a pair of trousers, so she slipped into a loose summer dress and draped a cardigan over her shoulders.

Father had already arrived when she walked back into the family room. He sat in a chair opposite of Harry, a bottle of butterbeer in his hands, and made a somewhat strained conversation with his son-in-law. At her entrance, he got up, walked towards her and took her in his arms.

'How are you, princess?'

The use of his old endearment for her spoke volumes about his concern, and she had to blink away the tears once again. She'd become such a hosepipe.

'Much better. Still a trifle sore, but I'll recover completely.'

'Your mother and sister will be relieved to hear that,' Father said with a deep breath and kissed her on the forehead. 'You look much better than I thought you would.'

Behind Father's back, Harry made an involuntary, sharp move. Of course he'd know she wore a Glamour Charm, and she gave him an imperceptible shake of her head. There was no need to worry Father even more.

'How are Mother and Tori?' she asked, and sat down next to Harry.

'Happy that you're awake and were able to leave the hospital. The first news we got about your injuries -' Father broke off and shook his head.

A sharp pain throbbed in the back of her throat. Merlin, she had caused so much sorrow. She looked down on her hands in her lap, bit her lips, and took a deep breath to center herself. 'How has Tori taken the news?'

One look at Father's face told her everything she had to know. Tori's health had become so frail that even the smallest bit of anxiety could cause another episode. The pain in her throat intensified.

'She's on the mend already, but she's still bedridden. That's why your mother can't come back to England for a short visit,' Father said. 'The news that you are out of St Mungo's has helped a lot. However, Tori would be over the moon if you could visit her as soon as you're feeling up to that.'

She cast a look at Harry. 'What do you think, honey?'

He put his arm around her shoulder. 'If you feel like it, I could order an International Portkey for tomorrow night. I guess your father will want to return to Isabella and Tori and his interrupted holidays as soon as possible, so I am needed at headquarters until Friday, but if you like you can travel with him in the morning, and I'll follow that night.'

'I thought of returning to work tomorrow.'

'No way!' Father and Harry said unison.

Daphne snorted. It was a rare occurrence that the two most important men in her life agreed on something, even though they always were perfectly polite to each other. The looks they both gave her right now indicated that this hadn't been her smartest idea. Their solicitude was sweet; it was nice to be pampered occasionally.

She held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. 'Alright, I'll stay at home, although I'll most likely scream with boredom.'

Harry opened his mouth, but the flaring Floo prevented his response. Seconds later, Hermione and Ron stepped out of the fireplace.

Hermione at once rushed over to her and pulled her into her trademark hug.

Daphne clung to her friend; the damned tears welled up in her eyes again, and all she could do was whisper a hoarse 'Thank you!' against Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione patted her back and let go of her, her eyes rather watery.

After that, it was Ron's turn to hug her. He was uncharacteristically somber when he did so.

Kreacher saved the awkward moment and announced dinner, and Ron's face brightened immediately.

They settled down in the dining room - Kreacher had his own notions of what was befitting for a dinner in the house of his master and mistress, and would inevitably set the table in the formal dining room if not told otherwise. She'd been too immersed in her misery this afternoon to spare a thought on the guests they'd receive for dinner, and now had to take Kreacher's slightly over-the-top preparations in their stride.

However, it soon became apparent that this wasn't a social gathering of family and friends, but a dinner discussion. Ron pulled out a wad of parchment and a Self Inking Quill, put them beside his plate, and looked from Cyrus to Harry as soon as he sat down.

'Alright, I already know a little about the incident from what my rather distraught wife told me immediately after. She refused to give me details because of the obligation to secrecy she signed when she began working for your company. However, the few tidbits she could tell me all screamed foul play to me, and that you asked her to bring me over tonight for a discreet meeting only confirms my suspicion. So, what has happened, and how can I help you?'

Father motioned with his hand towards Hermione. 'I think it's best that your wife tells you what she's found out. She's the Potions Mistress and can explain the details much better than I can.'

That got him a small snigger from Harry.

'You don't have to heed the obligation of secrecy to our company, Hermione,' Father said, and sent Harry a mock-glare from the corner of his eyes.

Hermione nodded. She took a deep breath, and summarised what had happened from her point of view and what she'd found out, together with the healers from St Mungo's, as she analysed the poison to brew the antidote.

Daphne looked down on her plate and shifted the delicious salad Krecher had prepared around with her knife and fork. She'd heard the gist of that already from Harry, but hearing the detailed version from Hermione once again drove home what a close escape she had had.

At last, Hermione came to an end. Ron still was jotting down notes, and a deep frown marred his usually so amicable face. He put down the quill and looked up.

'Alright, there was a limited number of people in that laboratory who could have done it. I have to know who was there, and who was in a position to tamper with Hermione's potion. Not everybody would have had a clear view on her cauldron and could have managed a clear shot, I imagine. Also, you have to tell me everything you know about the people in the laboratory. I have to investigate their backgrounds. Maybe we'll find a motive that way, a grudge against the company, or maybe against Daphne or Hermione.'

Harry straightened in his chair. 'When we came into the laboratory, Abbott and Pyke were in one of the glass cubicles. They had left their ingredients on their worktables, apparently they were planning on returning to their potions soon. Hermione, Cadwallader and Williams were working at their places. Our group consisted of Daphne and me, Pince, the Crogans, John and Anne, I think, and Elias Frudge.'

'Don't forget the assistants who walked in and out of the room while we were working,' Hermione said.

Ron jotted down that information. 'That are a lot of people. Is anyone among them you know has a grudge against Hermione or Daphne or the company?'

'Not that I know of,' Father said, but Daphne exchanged a look with her husband. Harry gave her an encouraging nod, and she cleared her throat.

'Actually, there is. Pince isn't very happy about the fact that Harry and I will take over the leadership of the company. We've also butted heads with him over hiring Hermione. He was dead set against having to make a woman a member of his team.'

'Not to mention that he took this incident as an opportunity to get rid of Hermione,' Harry said. 'You should read his report, Ron. It's full of half truths and blatantly wrong deductions and virtually no investigation. He also neglected to analyse the remaining potion in Hermione's cauldron. In fact, his handling of the affair made me wonder if he was trying to destroy evidence that points to him.'

Ron put down his quill and looked between Father, Harry, Hermione and her. 'Anyone else who might have a grudge?'

Hermione shook her head. 'Not that I know of. I get along well with Abbott, Pyke, Cadwallader and Williams. They accepted me as an equal. Also, I don't have any problems with the girls from the secretary pool or the assistants.'

'What about Frudge?' Harry asked. 'Daphne and I talked to him when we walked to the laboratory, and I had the impression he was still pretty pissed that Ginny divorced him. What if he messed with your cauldron to get revenge?'

'Isn't that rather far fetched?' Hermione asked with a snort.

Ron, however, shook his head. 'You'd be surprised, love, what silly notions make people become angry and cause bodily harm. Last week we had to deal with someone who blasted a Muggle into a wall because he looked at him in what he thought an offending way.'

He took some last notes and looked up. 'There's no way around it, we'll have to investigate the background of everyone who was in the laboratory on that day. Maybe we'll discover a yet unknown motive that way. Of course, there's also still the possibility someone from another department sneaked in undetected and messed around with Hermione's potion.'

Father put down his cutlery and dabbed his mouth. 'Excuse me for being blunt here, Ron, but with the relations between magical Britain and the other magical governments still strained, I suppose that it will not be easy for you to get information regarding Frudge and the Crogans through the official channels. May I offer the support of a private investigator I employ whenever I have to deal with delicate matters?'

Ron didn't bother to hide his relief. 'That would be very welcomed, Cyrus.'

He took a sip of his butterbeer. 'Until then, I'd like to re-enact the incident in the laboratory. Of course, I don't want the suspects to be there, I don't want to give away that we're investigating, so I'll bring some people along to take their place. Can we do that tomorrow after the usual work hours?'

Father agreed, and Daphne and Harry also nodded their consent.

'Good, then that's settled,' Ron said. 'I hope we can keep this investigation under the rug, but I won't get my hopes up high. Too many people know about what happened, and there is always someone to blab.'

His words turned out to be prophetic. Next morning's issue of _The Daily Prophet_ made it clear that someone had to have blabbed. Skeeter somehow had found out that Daphne's stay in St Mungo's had been caused by an accident that included Hermione's exploding cauldron. She didn't need more to bodge an article that posed the question of an adulterous affair between Harry and Hermione, with Daphne being the pitiable victim of Hermione's jealousy. At the end of the article she speculated why Hermione had not yet been laid off for her attack, and gave the answer by insinuating that Hermione must have a protector very high up in the ranks of the company - Harry, of course -, with a reference to another article inside of the paper that dealt with how Hermione had slept her way to the top.

'Damn that woman,' Harry said, and Vanished the newspaper with a flick of his wand.

Daphne had read the article over his shoulder, her face next to his. She gave him a small kiss on the cheek to calm him down and straightened.

'Instead of pampering me yesterday you should've prepared a press statement with Father.'

Harry put an arm around her waist and pulled her on his lap. 'And leave you to your brooding? No way, darling. I'll deal with Skeeter today. Our attorneys will love the new case, I'm sure. With a little luck we can use this blatant slander to push through a new law against slander under the pretext of the freedom of the press.'

She slid her arms around his neck. 'You've become so sly, honey.'

He grinned up at her. 'Actually, I prefer cunning.'

They laughed, and a short while later Harry left the house.

The house seemed dull and dark without him. However, there was no way she'd succumb once again to her grief and despair.

She walked out into the garden, towards the garage where they also kept their gardening tools. She gathered what she'd need for today, and even put on a pair of gardening gloves to protect her hands, mindful of Healer Payne's words, not to mention what Harry would have to say if he caught her without them.

A small giggle escaped her lips. He'd probably give her a piece of his mind anyway, if he saw her right now. His last words to her before he left the house had been about to rest and take it easy. Oh well, she had to make sure to be back in the house, showered and well groomed, before he returned from work. He'd have his hands full today, so he most likely wouldn't return before late in the evening.

With a little tune on her lips, she walked to the rose bushes to cut off the wilted blossoms.

As always when she was in her garden, she lost track of the time. Kreacher had almost forced her to take a break for lunch, but her appetite had not yet returned, and she'd Vanished most of the delicious sandwich he'd prepared for her.

Of course, Harry had to find her in the garden, sweaty and earth-stained. He walked towards her, a deep frown on his face.

'I thought you were going to rest today,' he said, and greeted her with a kiss.

She returned his kiss. 'Actually, you said I should rest today, but I never agreed to that.' She cast a surreptitious look on her wristwatch. Why did he have to finish work on time today? He hardly ever did, however, she should have expected this, as concerned as he had been about her.

The frown on his face deepened.

'Don't give me that look, honey. You know that gardening always helps me to relax and cope with problems. It was just what I needed today.'

He deflated and put an arm around her waist. 'If you say so. I'm just worried about you.'

A warm feeling spread in her chest, and she snuggled against him. 'You know, I'm a big girl, Harry, but it's nice to know that you care.'

'Always,' he said, and dropped a kiss on her head.

Her heart made a flip-flop, and she held her breath. That was as close as he'd ever come to admit how he felt for her in all those years of their marriage. He'd never told her how he felt for her, not as they'd made love for the first time, or as she'd told him of her pregnancy, and not even yesterday. Sure, he always showered her with physical affection, and his behaviour indicated that she was important to him, but he never talked about it.

Oh well, she'd resigned long ago to the fact that he was incapable to reflect on his feelings and express them. And yet …

She cast him a look from under her eyelashes, and her heart beat so loud he had to hear it. Was he going to say more?

He gave her his devastating smile and dropped another kiss on her head.

Her shoulders slumped. She was a fool to hope for something he obviously was incapable of saying - or maybe even to feel. Merlin knew his upbringing had been bad enough to turn him into a monster. It was a miracle he was that tender and caring, and she knew that she really shouldn't look for something he couldn't give her.

'It's about time to meet with Ron and the rest of our friends at headquarters,' he said.

Daphne nodded and pulled off her gardening gloves. 'I'd better get ready then.'

She put her tools back and showered and dressed after that. Thirty minutes later she and Harry stood in the laboratory, together with Ron, Hermione, Fleur, Bill, Lisa, Justin, Father, George, and the Weasley parents.

There was a lot of talking going on; everyone wanted to make sure she had recovered and give her a hug, even Mrs Weasley, although the Weasley matron still had not warmed up to her the way she did to Hermione and Fleur, and always seemed to regard her with silent reservation.

Ron clapped into his hands to get their attention. 'Alright, everybody, in your places. Harry, Hermione, Daphne, please go to where you stood when the cauldron exploded. You'll have to tell me where the other inhabitants of the room where at that point.'

There was no trace of the amicable friend on his face. His lips were pursed in concentration, and his eyes were cool and alert. This was Ron Weasley in full Auror mood, and all of a sudden she understood why he'd climbed through the ranks that fast, and had been promoted Senior Auror not even two years after his graduation; it was like he had been born for the role.

Without an objection she walked to the place at Hermione's work table where she had stood on Monday. Hermione stood on the other side of the table, and Harry took his place at the next work table, turned to her, as he had been on Monday. His head tilted to one side, he never let her out of his sight.

She gave him what she thought was a reassuring smile, and leaned against the table, like she'd done on Monday. Her heartbeat quickened, and her armpits became wet. This was harder than she'd thought before.

A frown appeared on Harry's face, and he made a move as if he was going to leave his place and come over to her, but he was held back by a question from Ron.

'Harry, where was Pince?'

Daphne blended them out, and put her hands on the flat of the table before her. Why was the room swaying like the deck of a ship?

Hermione put a hand on her arm, and the swaying stopped. 'Are you alright, Daphne?'

She took a deep breath. "No" would have been the honest answer, but instead she smiled at her friend. 'I'll manage.'

The look Hermione gave her indicated she doubted just that. Thanks Merlin she didn't pester her with more questions or well meaning advice. Even Hermione had learned a thing or two since she had close female friends for the first time in her life. Instead, she began talking about their stay in France. Of course, that also was a bitter-sweet memory now, given that she'd lost the baby she'd most likely conceived there. But it had been a happy time, and soon she told Hermione about their stay in Paris.

From the corner of her eyes she watched Ron setting up stage.

Father stood next to Harry, obviously playing Pince. Next to him were Fleur and Bill in the places of Anne and John Crogan, and then came George, who had taken the place of Cadwallader, and Justin as Elias Frudge.

Mr Weasley stood at Williams' work table, and Lisa and Mrs Weasley took the places of Abbott and Pyke in the glass cubicle.

Ron walked from group to group, a frown on his face, and studied how they related to Hermione's cauldron and the leftover ingredients on the work tables of Abbott and Pyke. He pulled a shrunken camera out of the pockets of his robes, enlarged it, and took pictures. Then he turned to Harry.

'You looked into Daphne's direction. Did you notice anyone in your group doing the same?'

A small blush tainted Harry's cheeks. 'Uhm … no. To be honest, I didn't pay them much heed.'

A sharp pain went through Daphne. She remembered every detail of that moment. She'd been so happy, and Harry had shown so much care - it had been one of these moments when she was sure he felt more for her than he even knew himself. And then the cauldron had exploded and destroyed all her dreams.

Tears shot into her eyes, and streamed down her face the next second. She gasped, and her legs seemed to give out under her.

'It's alright, darling,' a soft voice whispered in her ear, and strong arms held her upright.

Harry! Where had he come from so fast? She clung to him and buried her head at his shoulder, while her body shook with her sobs.

Part of her registered that their friends and family had gathered in the glass cubicle to give them more privacy, but she couldn't care less right now.

The door of the main entrance to the laboratory opened.

'Oh, sorry,' a familiar voice said.

The door closed again, but Daphne didn't care as a new wave of pain washed over her.

 _t.b.c._


	58. Chapter 55

**55**

He banged the door of his elegant flat shut behind himself. Let the neighbours complain about his behaviour, he didn't care. He strolled into his study and slumped down in the comfortable chair next to the window that overlooked Hyde Park. Today, however, he had no eye for the beauty of the view.

He should've expected they would investigate the incident, discreetly, of course. However, the fact Potter brought his Auror friend into the investigation was a sure sign they suspected foul play. He hadn't counted on them drawing that conclusion so soon.

Damn it, the whore had looked to have all but recovered completely, so the healers must have brewed an antidote. That meant they also knew about the frog poison. Shit!

He leaned forward and covered his face with the palms of his hands. His breath came in quick gasps. How close on his heels were they?

The events from Monday played before his inner eye once again. Had he somehow given himself away?

He took a deep breath and let his hands sink down on to his lap.

No, Potter, his whore and the Mudblood had all been concentrating on something else. Same was true for Frudge, his partners and Pince. Their eyes had been glued to the cauldron with the experimental shampoo when he had performed the silent Switching Spell on the Mudblood's Alihotsy leaves. Abbott and Pyke had been far away, and engrossed in their discussion.

Most likely they'd think it was someone letting off steam against the bushy-headed Mudblood. It was only natural that one of the female assistants would be jealous of her accomplishments, wouldn't it? The assistants knew enough about their potions to know that every exchange of an ingredient could lead to an exploding cauldron, but not enough to grasp the possibilities of the poisonous ingredients Abbott and Pyke had worked with.

It could be claimed as an unfortunate accident, an attempt to sabotage the Mudblood gone horribly wrong. An assistant would be fired, and he would be out of the woods.

There was probably going to be a hearing of the witnesses soon. Maybe he could drop a hint there … Yes, that would do.

Damn, he had squandered his opportunity for an easy kill of Potter's whore. It would be foolishness on his part to try again anything like that anytime soon at Crystal Fairy's.

He'd have to rely on the method he'd used in Paris: employ his elves to find out where Potter and his whore were, and strike again in the Muggle world.

 _t.b.c._


	59. Chapter 56

**56**

It was good to be back at work, good to have a normal routine again. With a deep, satisfied sigh Daphne sat down at her desk on Monday.

Harry hadn't been at all happy about her decision to return to work only a week after the attack, but had relented in the end. However, the fierce hug and lingering kiss he'd given her before he'd left the house for a meeting at the company's Muggle bank said a lot about his concern for her.

Thank Merlin he'd be stuck at the bank for most of the day. As much as she'd basked in his solicitude in the first days after she woke up and discovered her loss, the worst was now behind her - well, at least she hoped so. She had to move on, and the most sensible thing she could do was to keep herself occupied.

A small smile flickered over her face. Harry didn't agree at all with the latter sentiment. If he had had his way, he would've wrapped her up in cotton wool with a nice pink bow on top and waited on her hand and foot.

She was blessed to have such a sweet and caring husband, however, the residual pregnancy hormones in her system had her on edge; she would resent each of his attempts to shelter her when all she wanted was to go back to work to be distracted from her loss. Thank Merlin he'd be away most of the day, or today they were very likely to have one of their very rare, but also very explosive fights.

Daphne let out a sigh. She still wasn't her usual calm self, she was jumpy and prone to easy tears, the relaxing weekend she and Harry had spent with Tori and Mother and Father at the family vacation home near Nice hadn't changed that.

She looked at the small pile of mail on her desk. Someone had dealt with the stacks she remembered from Monday, and had left her only the mail she absolutely needed to see, and her personal mail. That had probably been Father; Harry had stayed with her at the hospital until she woke up, he wouldn't have had the time to work on her mail, too. She let out another sigh. Why couldn't the pile be at least twice as high? At least then she would've been occupied all day long.

Only a few hours later, she'd finished answering the last letter. Now all there was left were a few letters that were marked "Personal".

The first four letters were the usual account statements from Gringotts and their Muggle bank for their vaults and respective accounts. By a silent agreement in the first weeks of their marriage it had become her job to plan their private budget. As scrupulous as Harry was when it came to the financial part of Crystal Fairy's, she doubted he ever took a look on his private statements more than twice a year.

She opened the accounting programme for their personal expenses on their pc and made the necessary entries.

How did wealthy witches and wizards without access to Muggle technology handle their financial affairs? It had to be a pain in the behind to have to make all the entries by quill on parchment, and to be forced to do all the additions and subtractions by hand.

Thank Merlin they had the latest Muggle office equipment in the Muggle part of Fairy Crystal's, and the Goblins were very accommodating to make Muggle technology work in high magical areas - in exchange for a hefty fee, of course - so she'd grown up with everything the Muggleborns took for granted, like telephones and tvs, and it hadn't been difficult to persuade Harry to get them electricity and telephone at Grimmauld Place.

The next was an invitation to a party to celebrate the hundredth anniversary of a company run by a Muggle business acquaintance. A snigger escaped her lips. Oh, Harry would so love that - not. However, there was no way around it, they had to go. She pulled a sheet of stationary towards her, accepted the invitation, and added her RSVP to the outgoing mail pile.

This was followed by an offer to join the board of a Muggle charitable organisation. She sighed, these invitations had become a fairly common occurrence ever since she'd graduated in May. Many Muggle women with her background devoted a lot of their time to charity, and as good as none of them held a full-time job. It was similar in the magical world for wealthy Pureblood women. However, her time for these events and meetings was scarce, due to her job. Between Father, Harry and herself they had agreed that she'd only work for charities that would benefit the reputation of Crystal Fairy. She'd already joined the board of Mother's Golden Apple Foundation, and had time for maybe one or two others if they agreed the fit was right.

She penned a short note for father, attached the proposal with a paperclip, and put it into the basket for interoffice memos. Fleur or Lisa would get it on its way sometime during the day. She wanted to have his and Harry's thoughts on the offer before she made a decision.

Her thoughts wandered back to a discussion she'd had with Harry on this topic while they were still in France for the weekend.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise to her that Hermione knew of the long-time repercussions the antidote had for her fertility. Her friend was a brilliant potion mistress, and she had helped to brew the antidote, after all. Hermione had pulled her aside on Friday night, when they were about to leave the laboratory, and told her she was already working on a potion to counteract the side effects of the antidote. It was plain to see by the way her friend cast her eyes to the ground and worried her lower lips that she felt somehow responsible for what had happened.

She had been touched, and so was Harry when she told him. However, they had both agreed they'd never tell their friends about the baby she had lost; that would only increase Hermione's feelings of guilt tenfold, and they didn't want to do that to her.

In addition, Hermione's research had given them the idea to found something like Golden Apple in the magical world, to fund research into infertility, something that still was blamed solely on women without another thought in the magical world. She snorted; Merlin save the Pureblood chauvinists idiots from having to admit there might be such a thing as male infertility. However, they needed to start with research into the female side, or they'd never garner support. Eventually they'd expand their research into male fertility, but they'd probably be forced to keep that a secret.

With a sigh, she returned to her mail. The last letter was a plain, brown envelope, with the address typed on it. Daphne turned the letter in her had; it had no sender's name and address. Something about the letter made the hairs at the nape of her neck stand up, and she let her wand slid out of her holster and cast the diagnostic charms on it Harry had taught her a few weeks into their marriage.

The letter gave off the faint green glow that indicated it was safe to open it. Daphne tore the letter open, reached inside with her hand and pulled a sheet of stiff paper out of it. She looked down at the paper and gasped.

It was a magical photo.

The photo of a man and a woman at a table in a secluded corner of a posh restaurant, going by the crystal chandelier that hung over the table and cast a warm light over the white porcelain, the opulent silverware and the crystal goblets that filtered the light and strew hundreds of tiny reflections on the rich damask tablecloth and napkins. The man had one arm stretched out on the table; the woman had put her hand on his and looked up at him with a seductive smile on her lips and an unmistakable invitation in her chocolate brown eyes. Her thick, red mane flowed over one shoulder, a beautiful contrast to her bottle green robes of finest Acromantula silk and the sparkling emeralds in her ears.

The bitch, Merlin damn her.

The bitch, who was fondling Harry's hand.

A bout of dizziness overcame her; she leaned back in her chair and took a deep, shuddering breath. She let the photo drop on her desk and stared into space.

So, that was what he'd been up to in New York? She'd at once recognised the opulent setting as the restaurant of _The Palace Hotel;_ she'd been there often enough when she accompanied Father on his business trips to New York before her marriage.

What had happened after that intimate dinner? Had he taken the bitch to a room in the hotel and …?

She took another deep breath. Was Harry able to cheat on her and play the tender and caring husband afterwards? He'd been so devoted ever since his return from his trip; they'd had the happiest time and the darkest time of their marriage within the span of not even a week, and made it through this time supporting and comforting each other. Could he be such a two-timing bastard?

Daphne shook her head. No, not her Harry; something didn't add up here. She straightened, picked up the photo, and took another look, this time, however, she concentrated on Harry's reaction.

There was no doubt about it, he was tense and made a miniscule movement with his arm, as if he was about to draw his hand away. His face was a bland mask, the kind of face he had developed for social gatherings he didn't want to attend, but couldn't avoid. She squinted, trying to pick up every minor detail. Wasn't there an almost invisible grim line around his mouth, as if he'd love to utter a scathing remark and held himself back for politeness' sake?

She took another look. Yes, he wasn't comfortable with the situation at all.

Daphne let out a deep breath. He must have somehow run into the Weaselette during the time he spent in New York and couldn't avoid to have dinner with her. Or maybe he even thought he owed it to her because of their shared history. It probably was his idea of chivalry; Merlin only knew how his Gryffindor brain sometimes worked, she certainly wasn't able to understand it. Well, it wasn't a problem between them, their different character traits complemented each other, and yet they still shared enough traits to have a solid common ground.

She studied the photo some more. It seemed to have been taken by a professional, though there was no name or copyright on the back. Also, Harry didn't seem to be aware that his picture was taken.

A paparazzi photo, then.

Who could have sent it to her anonymously?

A small snort escaped her lips. The answer was obvious, wasn't it? Someone who wanted to mess with her marriage, and who knew Harry well enough not to make that rendez-vous common knowledge. Merlin, she didn't have to overexert her brain to come up with a name that fit the bill.

Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the Weaselette in the picture. So, the bitch still was trying to manipulate her and get between her and Harry. Why, after all these years? Of course, she was free at the moment and probably on the hunt for rich husband number three. Obviously, the bitch still hadn't given up on getting Harry in her clutches.

Well, it took two to tango, and Harry didn't seem to be willing to play along, thank Circe for that!

She let out another deep breath. Should she confront Harry about the photo, tell him that she knew he met the Weaselette in New York? What would be gained by that, except a very embarrassing conversation between Harry and her that would disturb the carefully maintained peace they had reached over the Weaselette? No, it would be better to pretend she was blind and deaf. Mother and Miss Ogden were spot on with their advice: some things were better never mentioned.

True, she had a jealous streak when it came to other women ogling Harry, and never hesitated to let him know. Deep down her chivalrous Gryffindor was flattered by that, and it never hurt to bolster your husband's ego. The Weaselette, however, was an entirely different matter: she was the only woman who posed a danger to their marriage. No, it was better not to acknowledge her meddling and give her power.

She put the photo back into the envelope and Banished it to a hidden compartment in her desk at Grimmauld Place, her mouth set in a grim line.

Even though she had no doubt that Harry was faithful to her, this little episode was a painful reminder that he still wasn't completely over the Weaselette, or he would have told her about the encounter. What in the world did Harry see in that tart that a part of him was still holding the torch for her after all these years?

 _t.b.c._


	60. Chapter 57

**57**

The hearing regarding Lucius Malfoy's second attempt for probation, after he had served three quarters of his sentence, attracted almost as many spectators as his original trial seven and a half year ago.

Harry let his eyes wander around the crowded tiers of the biggest courtroom in the Ministry for Magic, while he waited for the panel of judges to come to a decision. The noise in the circular room was deafening, and in spite of the Wide Area Cooling Charms that were placed on the courtroom, the air was stifling and hot because far too many people were crammed together during the long hours of the hearing.

A bead of sweat trickled down between Harry's shoulder blades, and he renewed the Cooling Charm he had cast on himself not even thirty minutes ago.

He had received a summons to attend the hearing, together with Cyrus. After all, they were both heads of the families Malfoy had threatened with retaliation immediately after he'd been sentenced to ten years in Azkaban. He had given his statement earlier that morning, and then taken a seat in the stands, curious to find out the outcome.

Next to him, Ron and Cyrus were in an animated discussion about the funding requests for the Auror department that had been included in the Ministry budget for 2006 fiscal year. These applications were going to be voted on by the Wizengamot in the upcoming week. Harry suppressed a snort as he observed them; it was hard to believe that this was the same Ron who'd had no other thoughts in his head than Quidditch, wizarding chess, and how to avoid his homework during their Hogwarts time, and who now gave Cyrus a detailed explanation what was needed in the Auror department, complete with the numbers.

The door to the adjudication room opened, and the panel of judges came out. Harry poked Ron in the side with his elbow to remind him to stand up.

'What?' Ron sputtered, and looked up. 'Oh, right.' He scrambled to his feet.

The presiding judge banged the gavel for quiet in the room. In the press section, Rita Skeeter bent forward, her Quick Quotes Quill at the ready, and licked her lips.

Harry pursed his lips, mindful not to let show his revulsion on his face. Rita had become more vulture like with each passing year since the Battle of Hogwarts. Thank Merlin, she pretty much left him alone these days; she had other fish to fry. Not to mention that nowadays he was backed up by new laws against slander and libel they had managed to push through the Wizengamot after Skeeter's slanderous article about Hermione two years ago. Added to this was the Public Relations department at Crystal Fairy: they were more than capable in dealing with the likes of Rita Skeeter. The last echelon of his bolstered defenses were his and Daphne's personal assistants, Lisa and Fleur, who up to this point in time had been impossible for Rita to overcome, much to her resentment.

The presiding judge cleared his throat. 'The petition for probation is hereby denied.'

Whispers and muted cries of triumph ran around the room. The presiding judge sat down; his movement was mirrored by the other judges and the audience. He banged the gavel to restore order in the room, pulled a sheet of parchment out of his robes and began to read out the reasons for the decision of the court.

Harry tuned him out. His eyes fell on Lucius Malfoy who sat next to his attorney in the middle of the room.

At first glance, Lucius hadn't changed much. His hair was still long and light, but it had lost its gleam, and the white blond colour had given room to the white hair of an old man, even though he wasn't much older than fifty-two, a still young age for a wizard. Then again, Azkaban would do that to you; even with the dementors gone it was still a hell of a nasty place.

As if he felt Harry's eyes on him, Lucius turned around. His eyes, sunken deep into his skull, seemed to bore into Harry with a hatred that was still as fresh and burning as it had been on the day of his sentence.

Next to Harry, Ron gasped. 'He hasn't changed one bit. I knew all the grovelling he did in front of the panel was nothing more than a steaming pile of dragon dung.'

Harry gave a noncommittal nod, while he reciprocated Malfoy's stare with a cold, unmoving stare of his own, and didn't allow his gaze to waiver until Malfoy turned his eyes away.

The judge brought is reading of the verdict to an end, and the hearing was closed. As the Aurors came to lead Malfoy out of the courtroom and back to his cell in Azkaban, Harry let himself be pushed out of the room by the crowd, Ron and Cyrus next to him.

Ron pulled out his wand and cast a privacy charm around them. There was a grim line around his mouth.

'I think, mate, that you'd better arrange for private security for Daphne and yourself. That also pertains to you and your family, Cyrus. Merlin only knows to what Malfoy will get up to after his petition for probation has been declined for a second time.'

Cyrus nodded his agreement.

Harry sighed. 'Is that really necessary, Ron? I swear, ever since you became Senior Auror, you've become almost as paranoid as Moody.'

Ron's earlobes turned pink, still a sure sign of his anger, even though he had learned to reign in his infamous Weasley temper over the last more than seven years since the Battle of Hogwarts.

'Do I need to remind you of the many close calls that you and Daphne have had ever since he was sent to Azkaban? There was first the attack in Paris, then the attack on Daphne at Crystal Fairy's -'

'Merlin, Ron, those attacks were five years apart and had no connection to each other. Your department never found out who was behind that. You weren't even sure if the attack at Crystal Fairy Beauty was actually aimed at Daphne,' Harry said.

Ron gave him a withering side glance. 'I know, there were just too many suspects and motives. Pince, wanting to get rid of Hermione, plus his little spat with Daphne and you; Frudge blaming you for his divorce from Ginny and maybe wanting to take out his anger on Hermione. Hell, even the Crogans had enough of a motive to get back at you; given their discrete monetary support of the supremacism movement in the USA, a movement that donated gold to Voldemort during the war. There was also that lab assistant Prince repeatedly overlooked for promotions and who had a huge grudge against the company and its management. I get it, you're right, there's nothing concrete enough to nail it down to one person. Thanks for rubbing that in, mate.' The frustration about the thorough investigation of Daphne's poisoning two years ago that didn't result in enough evidence to put anyone at court was palpable in his voice.

He took a deep breath. 'Bloody hell, Harry, I'm asking you to trust me when I say that I just know it deep in my bones that you and Daphne are in danger. Let's not also forget that the number of near misses you and Daphne have had seems to have escalated since then.'

He counted on his fingers. 'Remember the holidays we took in Tyrol in the winter after Daphne's accident? Hermione persuaded us to go skiing, and we were almost caught by that avalanche? Or what about the crash you and Daphne had on the way from Grimmauld Place to Daphne's parents because of a failure in the traffic light circuit? You both would've been dead, if you hadn't just bought that new car with the side airbags, and reinforced it with additional Safety Spells. Or what about the time you managed to Apparate Daphne and yourself away just in time to avoid a collapsing scaffold?'

'These were all freak accidents, Ron,' Harry said. 'You know that accidents happen.'

'They tend to happen quite often around you, mate.' Ron now openly glared at him, and his earlobes glowed like two beacons.

Harry caught a movement with the corner of his eyes: Rita Skeeter turned her head towards them. A delighted smile, as if Christmas had come early, spread over her face.

He gave an inward groan. Great, he could already see tomorrow's headline of _The Daily Prophet:_

 **Chosen One Fights With Auror in Ministry.**

He put a hand on Ron's arm. 'I appreciate your concern, Ron, but not here and now.' He jerked his head into Skeeter's direction with a miniscule movement.

Ron's eyes followed. 'Oh. Right. Sorry 'bout that, I got carried away.' He pressed his lips together, took a deep breath and forced himself to relax.

'You know, son, I think Ron has a point.'

Harry jerked his head to his father-in-law. 'Not you, too!' This time, his groan was audible.

'Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action,' Cyrus said. Neither his face, not his voice lost its calm.

'And it didn't stop at that, did it? What about the rope bridge accident you and Daphne were involved in last year in Italy? I don't remember how many Muggles died that day; you could easily have been among them, hadn't you Apparated away in time. Or the Muggle who ran amok in Munich, shooting everywhere he could see with one of their guns. You could've easily been hit, just like any of the poor Muggles he killed, if you hadn't been able to conjure a brick wall in front of you to block the bullets. Not to mention that rabid dog that tried to bite you and Daphne during your holidays in Croatia.'

They had reached the forum of the Ministry as they continued to talk. The monument that had been erected after Voldemort's takeover of the Ministry of Magic had been demolished immediately after the Battle of Hogwarts, but the Fountain of Magical Bethren hadn't been reinstalled. In its stead now stood a white marble obelisk, with the names of the many victims of both wars, human and not-human, etched into it in golden letters. Today a garland of evergreens with red bows was wrapped around it in celebration of the upcoming Yuletide.

Harry shook his head. 'That all were accidents, in no way connected to each other.'

'And I think that's exactly what we're supposed to think,' Ron said.

'I know your opinion, Ron, but you've investigated each time and never found a connection to Lucius Malfoy. Besides that, I can't see how he could've staged all these attacks out of Azkaban.'

Cyrus cleared his throat. 'He couldn't have, but his son never was sent to Azkaban, he got away with community service and a probation period, as far as I remember.'

'There's no way Malfoy is behind that, Cyrus,' Harry said. 'You don't know him as well as I do; he doesn't have it in him to kill someone.'

'I agree on the latter part, Harry,' Ron said. 'However, I think Malfoy would have no qualms hiring someone to do the job. The amount of accidents you and Daphne have had is just the way a clever hired assassin would act.' He drew air quotes with his fingers around the word "accidents". 'One day he'll go too far, and we'll find him, and then you'll have to admit I was right all along, mate.'

Harry startled, and he gaped at his friend. 'You're kidding. Assassins use guns, or probably the Killing Curse in case of wizards.'

Ron snorted at that. 'You've seen too many muggle films, Harry. They'd do that if they wanted to get caught. The most successful assassins are those who manage to arrange a lethal accident without drawing any attention to themselves. Everything that happened to you can easily be arranged by a halfway competent wizard. Think about it!' He slapped Harry on the shoulder.

Harry slumped. 'Alright, I'll talk to Daphne about it. I don't think she'll be thrilled about the idea of personal security.'

'Oh, then it's as good as done. Daphne will agree to anything to protect you, and Daphne always gets what she wants.' A huge grin spread over Ron's face. 'You're so whipped!'

Harry gave him his best cold stare. 'I'll have you to know that Daphne and I will decide together on that matter, after a careful evaluation of the situation, of course.'

'Whatever lets you sleep at night, mate.' Ron grinned and winked at Cyrus.

Cyrus kept a calm face under Harry's glare, even though the corners of his mouth quivered slightly. At least he had the good sense to keep his mouth shut.

They had reached the Apparition Point. Harry gave a nod to his father-in-law.

'See you tomorrow in the office.'

'And don't be late for our Christmas party tonight, or Hermione will have your hide and mine, even though I have just reminded you again,' Ron called as he stepped into the circle.

Harry nodded in reply, turned on the spot and Apparated away.

He appeared on the topmost stair of the stairs in front of Grimmauld Place number twelve, safely within the Unplottable and the Fidelius Charms he had cast on the house the summer after the war. Over the course of the last seven years he had added more wards, giving them both additional peace of mind that they had a secure private residence. He was confident that there was no way someone could get to Daphne or himself behind the safety their house provided.

He tapped his wand against the black oak door and pushed it open, still lost in his thoughts.

The accidents hadn't happened in their house, nor - now that he thought of it - even when they were in the magical world. They had all happened in the Muggle world, the place where he and Daphne felt safe and free because the few Death Eaters that were still on the run were unlikely to go there, plus they could just be Daphne and Harry there instead of the hottest celebrity couple of the magical world.

A soft _Plop_ by his side yanked him out of his thoughts. Winky had appeared beside him, and helped him out of his winter cloak.

Kreacher had asked him for permission to marry Winky two years ago, and he had happily obliged. Who was he to deny the old elf some happiness? Added to this, Winky seemed to thrive after she had bonded with the House of Potter, and got pregnant soon after.

Little did he know back then this would be Kreacher's last service to him: he had wanted to make sure that his master and mistress were well cared for by an elf of his descendant. He had lived just long enough to see Winky giving birth to twins, two or three being the average number of children of an elf pregnancy, he had learned from Daphne. The younglings were now a little over one year old, and since house elves matured much faster than humans they would want to begin working in the house next year.

'Mistress bes in the family room,' Winky told him formally and popped away.

Harry walked downstairs to the cosy room where he and Daphne spent most of their free time when they were at Grimmauld Place, and stopped on the threshold.

Dusk was already falling behind the huge bay window that looked out onto the sunken patio and the rockery that encircled it. The room was lit up by a merry fire crackling in the fireplace, and an abundance of Everlasting Candles burning in the small crystal chandelier that hung from the ceiling and in the sconces on the walls around the room. The light of the candles was reflected and magically enhanced by a mirror over the mantle of the fireplace.

The invigorating smell of fresh pine permeated the room. Daphne stood on the window seat, directing Christmas ornaments with her wand to the top of the tall Christmas tree she had put up in front of the bay window. She was dressed in jeans and a casual sweater that would ride up whenever she lifted her arm above her head, showing a tantalizing flash of flesh. She had pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck. A few strands had escaped and now framed her glowing face in the most charming way.

About a dozen open boxes with Christmas ornaments were scattered on the sofa, the low coffee table and the window seat, which told of a day full of hard work to get the house decorated for Christmas. There was a garland on the mantelpiece, and he thought he had seen similar garlands at the front windows when he Apparated in.

She was so focussed on her work she didn't notice him at the door. The tip of her tongue protruded slightly when she Levitated the last ornament - a fairy dressed in golden robes - to the top of the tree, and there was a small smudge of dirt across the brink of her nose.

He'd bet his beloved Nimbus 3000 that she'd crawled around the attic to gather the boxes with the ornaments herself instead of sending Winky. She just had too much fun getting the house ready for Christmas and insisted on doing most of the work herself.

He watched her with a smile on his face. She was so beautiful and caring; what on earth had he done to deserve her?

He stepped into the room. 'Need some help?'

Daphne jerked her head around, and her face lit up. 'Harry!' She jumped down from the window seat and rushed towards him.

He met her halfway and gave her a kiss in greeting.

Daphne linked her arms with his and pulled him towards the sofa. 'You are rather late,' she said and sat down. 'What took you so long?'

Harry sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulder. 'Sorry, darling; the judges took ages to come to a decision. Afterwards, it was hard to get to the Apparition point; the courtroom was crowded, it seemed as if half of the magical population of the British Islands wanted to witness the hearing.'

'Or they wanted to see the Chosen One giving evidence,' Daphne said with a shrewd side glance at him. 'How did it go?'

'Malfoy is shipped back in Azkaban for the last quarter of his sentence as we speak. However, now Ron's fretting that he'll try to attack us through an assassin and wants us to hire personal security.' He told her the main points of his talk to Ron and Cyrus on their way out of the Ministry.

Daphne listened without interrupting him, though the frown on her face became deeper with each word he said.

'What do you think of Ron's theory?' he asked her finally.

She didn't answer at once, but worried her lower lip between her teeth.

'Well, I can't blame him for being cautious, when grouped together like that, his hypothesis has some merit,' she said at length. 'Although, the idea our accidents might have been assassinations sounds rather farfetched to me. And I doubt Malfoy would go to such lengths. From what I understand his coffers are empty, at least that's what my sources are saying, and I have no reason not to believe them. He wouldn't be able to pay for six attempted assassinations.'

'Exactly my thoughts,' Harry said and hugged her towards himself. There was no doubt her estimation of the Malfoy wealth was right; she still kept connections to her former housemates, one Pansy McLaggen nee Parkinson in particular. According to Daphne she was as bad a gossip as Lavender and Parvati, and always well informed.

'So, no private security?' He raised an inquiring eyebrow at his wife.

She scrunched up her adorable nose. 'I'd rather not. As it is, our privacy is already rather limited, with you being the Chosen One. Even in the Muggle world we aren't exactly nobodies, due to the wealth of our families. Our outings in the Muggle world and the holidays we take together are the last bit of privacy and freedom we have. I don't want to give that up, and have body guards tagging along.'

'I agree wholeheartedly,' he said and gave her a peck on the cheek.

Daphne bent forward and picked up a mug with a steaming liquid from the coffee table that emitted a pleasant smell of licorice and echinacea, and took a tentative sip. Her face lit up. 'That's not bad for a healing potion.'

'Another one of Hermione's brews?'

His wife nodded between sips. Hermione had made good on her promise to develop a potion that would counteract the antidote Daphne had to take after the attack and the effect that it had had on her fertility. Unfortunately, so far without success. In the beginning, they'd been full of hope. But when weeks turned into months and months into years, and their hopes had been crushed again and again, they'd learned to deal with the disappointment. It wasn't easy, especially when Fleur and Lisa announced last month they were expecting again. Hermione, however, refused to give up, and had become more insistent ever since they had set up a foundation to cover her research. Each three months she'd bring Daphne another potion, and each time they'd hope that maybe a miracle would happen.

They settled into a comfortable silence while they snuggled on the sofa and watched the merrily dancing flames in the fireplace.

The chiming of the grandfather clock in the ground floor hallway interrupted their time of relaxation. Daphne got up and stretched.

'Five o'clock already. We'd better get ready for Hermione's christmas party. She'll never let us hear the end if we're late!' She pulled out her wand and Banished the empty boxes that were scattered all over the room back to the attic.

Harry chuckled and also got to his feet. 'You're right; Ron gave me the stern warning not to be late, or else!'

They laughed and walked up to their bedroom to get ready.

Daphne took her sweet time to dress up, but the result, as always, was worth it. She wore a black sleeveless sheath cocktail dress with shining details around the high neckline that ran down at the sides of the dress as well and drew attention to her well formed, slim body. Slits on both sides of the dress gave him a good glimpse of her long legs. Her loose locks framed her face, the way he liked best, and even though she had put on more makeup than she usually wore, it was still only a light dusting compared to what some witches wore.

Harry let out a low, appreciative whistle when she came out of the dressing room.

'Like what you see?' She grinned and posed in front of him.

'You bet.' He leered at her as he closed the gap and put his arm around her waist. 'You're a sight for sore eyes, Mrs Potter.' After more than seven years of marriage he knew better than to mess with her hair or makeup when she had gone all out for a party, so he just pulled her towards him and dropped a kiss on the crown of her head. Maybe he'd get lucky after the party and would be allowed to unwrap her out of that exciting dress and have his wicked way with her.

Daphne leaned back in his arm and smoothed out an imagined fold on the front of his suit jacket. 'Get your mind out of the gutter, mister,' she whispered and gave him a butterfly kiss, mindful of her lipstick.

Damn, she knew him too well.

He mock-pouted at her, and she laughed out loud and grabbed his hand. 'Come on, honey, let's get going.'

In spite of all their efforts they were among the last guests to arrive. Hermione opened the door, resplendent in a black, empire style velvet dress, and rolled her eyes at them.

'It's all my wife's fault,' Harry said in his defense, and gave Daphne a wink. 'She took ages to get ready.'

Of course, he got a poke in the side and a not very subtle 'Prat!' from Daphne in return.

Hermione took their cloaks. 'Well, it was worth the effort. You look stunning, Daphne.'

'Right back at you, sister,' Daphne said and gave Hermione a hug. The two witches shared a few whispers.

Harry rolled his eyes, but grinned. He should've known they'd gang up against him the moment they met, and it would get worse as soon as Lisa and Fleur joined them. At least he was not alone in this; Ron, Justin and Bill also got their fair share of attention.

Hermione led them into the drawing room at the front of the house. It was already crowded with people. They greeted Ron, then exchanged a few words with Bill, Fleur, Lisa and Justin who stood together near the fireplace, before they made their rounds to greet the other guests.

Hermione and Ron had invited a mixture of old school friends and new colleagues from work, so Neville Longbottom and his wife Hannah were among the guests, as well as Luna Lovegood and her fiancé, the renowned Magizoologist Rolf Scamander. But there were also two blokes from the Auror department with their wives or girlfriends, and Hermione's colleagues Cadwallader and Williams.

In the two years he lived in England Williams had definitely been diligent about getting to know the witches of Magical Britain: each time he saw him at one of Hermione's parties or at an official event at Crystal Fairy, there was another girl on his arm. Cadwallader was not so popular with the witches, at least that was what the company rumour mill said, but Williams always asked his current girlfriend to provide a date for him.

The girls that were with them today looked vaguely familiar to Harry, and he drew his eyebrows together while he tried to come up with where he had seen their faces.

'Why that frown on your face, oh husband of mine?' Daphne asked, a glass of wine in her hand, and stepped beside him.

He gave an imperceptible nod to the two girls who sat between Cadwallader and Williams. 'I'm trying to figure out how I know those girl's faces, but I'm drawing a blank so far.'

Daphne had a much better memory for faces than he had. This time was no exception. 'They both work in the Portkey Department at the Ministry. You probably saw them there when you picked up a Portkey.' She took a sip of her drink. 'Though I don't think you'll have to put much effort in remembering their faces and names. You know Williams, he'll have another girlfriend in a couple of weeks, and she'll provide the date for Cadwallader for the next party.'

'You're probably right,' Harry replied, and allowed her to drag him away to the dining room, where dinner was served buffet style. After Daphne's appetite was satiated, they mingled with the other guests.

Harry listened with a small pang in his heart to Ron and his fellow Aurors sharing anecdotes from the Auror office. A slight smile played around his lips. There'd once been a time he'd dreamt of nothing else than becoming an Auror. Little had he known back then what life had in store for him.

A small hand stole in his, and Daphne nestled against him. 'Do you regret it?' she asked in a voice low enough not to be heard over the din in the room, and motioned with her chin towards Ron and the other Aurors.

He smiled down at her. 'Not at all.'

'Good.' Her eyes twinkled slightly as she raised on her tiptoes and kissed him.

'Oi, get a room!'

Harry had no intention in breaking his kiss with Daphne and flipped Bill the bird behind Daphne's back, which got him a chuckle in return.

A couple of hours later the party came to a close. Most guests had already left, and now he and Daphne were enjoying a quiet chat with Ron and Hermione in the cosy sitting room to unwind from the party.

Hermione sat somewhat rigidly snuggled up to her husband. A few stray strands had escaped from her elegant hairdo and now curled around her glowing face.

Harry smiled; his best friend and former bookworm surely had developed into a beautiful woman.

'Don't you think it's about time we tell them?' Hermione asked her husband. The slight catch in her voice and the strange light in her eyes when she looked up at Ron made Harry hold his breath. He narrowed his eyes slightly: a tenseness permeated her body that she was trying very hard to hide. What was troubling his friend?

Ron dropped a kiss on his wife's cheek. 'Go ahead, love. This is your big news.'

Daphne tensed in Harry's arm he had put around her shoulders and sat up. Her eyes became wide, and she let out a strange little squealing sound.

'Hermione, are you -?'

'Yes,' Hermione said with an almost beaming face, though her eyes flickered away from them both ever so slightly, and she wouldn't hold their gaze.

Daphne squealed again, sprung to her feet, and hugged first Hermione, then Ron. 'Congratulations, you two. I'm so happy for you.'

'Thank you, Daphne,' Hermione replied. Her eyes still didn't meet Daphne's. 'I'll do everything in my power to ensure that you'll soon be able to experience the same happiness,' she added in a lower voice.

Harry looked from his wife to his best friends. 'Will somebody please fill me in what's going on?'

Daphne plopped down beside him and gave him a playful punch in the shoulder. 'Hermione is pregnant, you clueless oaf.'

Something seemed to pull at his guts, and his hands twitched. It wasn't fair; why did everyone around them get to expand their families? Fleur was pregnant for a third time, and Lisa was also expecting again. And now even Ron and Hermione were about to start a family, all whilst Daphne and he had not only lost their baby, but after more than two years had passed they had to come to grips with the fact that Healer Payne's worst case scenario probably had come true: Daphne had failed to conceive ever since her potion induced miscarriage.

Next to him, Daphne grabbed for his hand and squeezed it. Her fingers trembled slightly.

He gave her a quick side glance.

She smiled, and seemed to be genuinely happy for Hermione and Ron, but there was also a brittleness to her smile, a sure sign that the news had gotten to her, too.

He returned the squeeze of her hand, gulped, and got up to hug Hermione and Ron.

'That's wonderful news.'

'We … ' Hermione hesitated slightly before starting again. 'We wanted to ask you if you want to become godparents,' Hermione said when he had sat down again.

Harry exchanged another glance with his wife. There it was again, that almost imperceptible line of strain around her mouth, and her eyes had darkened slightly. He put his arm around her shoulders and drew her towards him in a comforting hug.

'We'd be honoured,' he said, though his heart was heavy in his chest.

Daphne nodded to his words. He didn't have to look at her to know her thoughts.

Was being godparents to the children of their friends all that the future had in store for them?

They took their leave not long after that.

Daphne let go of his arm and walked into the bathroom to take off her makeup as soon as he had Apparated them into their bedroom. Her face, all smiles when they were at Ron and Hermione's house, had turned into a stony mask.

Harry sighed; he didn't need to be a Legilimens to know where her thoughts were heading. The news must've hit her even worse than him; for a reason he couldn't fathom she seemed to blame herself for their unintentional childlessness, he'd gathered this from the random remarks she'd made over the years whenever the touchy subject came up between them.

He pulled out his jacket, flung it over a chair, and followed his wife into the bathroom.

She was vigorously brushing her hair; it seemed to him that she was putting more effort into the task than it required, given the violent way she yanked the brush through her locks. There was a bright shine in her eyes.

He stepped behind her and took the brush out of her hand. 'Don't punish yourself, darling.'

Her chin trembled slightly, and she bit her lips, no doubt to try and hide her bout of sadness from him. As if he'd ever want her to do that!

He put the brush onto the washstand, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. They stood like that for a long time. Daphne didn't cry, but her whole body was tense, and she didn't return his hug.

After what seemed an eternity, she sighed; her body slumped against his, and she wrapped her arms around him. Whatever demon she had fought, she'd come out victorious.

He pulled her closer and dropped a kiss on her head she'd buried at his shoulder. They'd overcome the crisis - for now. But how many times more Daphne would be at the brink of despair because of their childlessness?

 _t.b.c._


	61. Chapter 58

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Shame on me, I made the notes for the last three chapters, but forgot to save them. I'm on holiday, and so is my brain. A belated, but hearfelt thank you to my fantastic editor Shygui for all the hard and quick work he did with editing the last three chapters and helping me fix the plothole he discovered. Same goes for this chapter. You simply rock

 **Warning! Possible character deaths implied!**

Chapter **58** only, 02/09/18

* * *

 **58**

 _ **December 22rd, 2005**_

The last day of work, before the company shut down for a short Christmas break, Cyrus stuck his head into Daphne and Harry's office.

'Do you two have a minute? There are a few things I wanted to talk about with you before I leave for France.'

Harry raised his head from the papers he was just reading, and motioned with his hand to one of the visitors chairs. 'Come in.'

Cyrus entered their office, sat down and crossed his legs. Daphne and Harry turned towards him.

Harry grinned at his father-in-law. 'I suppose you want to give us some last minute advice?'

Cyrus nodded, gracing them both with a small smile. 'Something like that, though I know you two will be more than up to the task to fill my place. Not to mention that I'm only a phone call away.'

During the last two years since they had begun working with Cyrus, he had started to take more time off to spend time with Isabella and Tori. Of course, he was sixty-five, an age when most Muggle men retired from work, even though as a wizard he didn't look like it. However, Cyrus' frequent time off had a lot to do with Tori's deteriorating health. It had become a fulltime job for Isabella to take care of her youngest daughter, and Cyrus wanted to be there for his wife and daughter as often as possible. They all knew that it would come to an end all too soon.

The cold and wet British winters were not agreeing with Tori, so they had decided that they would spend Christmas at the Greengrass vacation home near Nice. Cyrus, Isabella and Tori would leave tomorrow morning, while Daphne and Harry were obliged to attend to another Christmas party that night and would join them the day after for the traditional Greengrass family dinner on Christmas Eve. While they would return to London after the dinner and spend Christmas Day with the Weasleys, as it had become their tradition, Cyrus was planning on staying in France until well into January, while Isabella and Tori were going to spend the rest of winter there, with an assessment to be made later as to whether or not she would ever return to this side of the channel.

Cyrus filled them in on the latest state of the projects he had been working on.

Harry snorted. 'You do know that isn't really necessary, don't you? I've been working with you on most of this, and I've read all your memos. Don't worry, we'll do fine.'

'Yeah, I know. It's just …' Cyrus' voice trailed off, and he shrugged.

Harry raised his eyebrows, and he exchanged a look with his wife. Uneasiness was not an emotion he ever would've connected with his father-in-law.

'What's worrying you, Father?' Daphne asked in a soft voice.

Again, Cyrus shrugged. 'Worry is probably the wrong word. But over the years I've learned to trust my instincts, and right now I have the feeling that tough times are ahead of us.' He shifted in his seat and gave them both a strained smile.

'You know that I'm not one to give praise easily, but I think it's about time to tell you how proud I am of both of you. You both have grown into your places in the world, and I know the company will be safe in your hands when the time comes for me to step back. You're both more than up to the challenge to take up the reigns, there is little left for me to teach you, the rest you'll gain through experience just as I have. Harry, you need to trust that Daphne will be right by your side and support you every step of the way, but you'll need to trust each other, listen to her ideas and opinions, especially if they oppose yours, even if sometimes you don't want to; it was the hardest lesson I had to learn.' He gave them a look that Harry didn't recognise. 'I know, you probably don't agree with me, but I still think that arranging your marriage was the best decision I ever made.'

Harry's chest tightened, and he looked down so as not to meet Cyrus or Daphne's eyes. The best decision - for whom? For the company, no doubt, and probably also for the Potter fortune and for Cyrus. However, had the old fart ever spared a thought of what he might do to them as individuals when he forced them together? Nobody could have foreseen that he and Daphne would learn how to become friends or even like each other. Their marriage could've easily turned into hell on earth, if he hadn't managed to get over Ginny or, even worse, he could have decided to keep her as his mistress, like she had offered on his wedding day.

He cast a look at his wife from under his eyelashes. Cyrus's words also seemed to have got to her; she'd lowered her head and hid her face behind a curtain of hair.

Thank Merlin for his Gryffindor nobility that had prevented him from taking Ginny up on her offer, and allowed him to build a relationship of genuine mutual affection with Daphne. He'd had the misfortune to run into Ginny more than once during his frequent trips to the U.S.A., and each time had confirmed the impression he'd got on that dinner with her two years ago: she was shallow and couldn't hold a candle to Daphne when it came to intellect, education and manners. Each time he and Ginny had run out of topics to talk about within five minutes after they met. Merlin alone knew what he ever saw in her except for a pretty face and a fierce temperament - a temperament he could well do without these days.

Well, if he looked at it from that perspective, Cyrus was most likely right. He probably should be thankful that the man had prevented him from a disastrous marriage. He couldn't have found a better partner for life than Daphne. But he'd be damned if he gave Cyrus the satisfaction to agree with him.

Aloud he said, 'If you say so, Cyrus,' and gave his father-in-law a weak grin.

Daphne's head jerked up at that, and she gave him a look he couldn't decipher. She opened her mouth, but was interrupted by Cyrus, who took his leave.

'I'll see you on Christmas Eve.' He walked over to Daphne to give her a hug and a kiss on the forehead.

She hugged him back. 'Give Mother and Tori my love.'

The telephone on Harry's desk rang, and he picked up the receiver. 'Yes, Lisa?'

'Mr Appleby from Webber Transports. He said you waited for his call,' Lisa said.

'Oh yes, put him through, please.'

A tap on his shoulder made him look up. Cyrus mouthed a silent goodbye to him, and gave him a short wave. He replied in kind, and watched Cyrus leaving the office while he listened for the characteristic cracking sound of a phone call being put through.

'Mr Appleby? Potter here. Thank you for calling back that promptly.'

He concentrated on the phone call, and soon the strange talk with Cyrus and Daphne's reaction faded into the background over the demands of the day.

* * *

It was almost midnight when Harry and Daphne left the taxi that had dropped them back at Grimmauld Place. Harry paid the driver, wrapped his arm around his wife and walked her the few steps to the front stairs of their house, while the taxi drove off.

Daphne let her head sink against his shoulder. 'Merlin, what a boring party!'

Harry grimaced. 'You can say that again.'

It had been one of these Muggle events they were obligated to attend, and a very stiff and boring one on top of that. He'd suffered through it without giving away his boredom, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

They had reached the top of the stairs, and Harry pulled out his wand to open the door.

Daphne stretched and gave him a kiss on the cheek. 'You've been a very good boy tonight. I think that deserves a reward.' She gave him an inviting wink.

The door opened under the tap of Harry's wand. He slipped the wand back into the holster and swept his wife in a tight hug as soon as they were inside of the house. 'Do you have something special in mind?' he asked, his lips close to hers.

She slung her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. 'Just you wait and see,' she whispered in a husky voice and closed the gap between them.

Now, the night promised to end on a much more exciting note than the party had been. He tightened his grip around his wife and deepened their kiss.

'Master Harry, Master Harry!'

Small fists tugged at his trousers at the height of his knees.

Harry groaned, though not out of pleasure, let go of Daphne, and looked down on Winky who still tugged at his trousers.

'You'd better have a very good reason for this, Winky.'

The small creature wrung her hands and gave him a desperate look from huge, tennis ball sized eyes.

'Winky bes sorry, Master Harry. Winky bes bad house elf for disturbing master and mistress. Winky will-'

'I order you not to punish yourself, Winky.' The response came automatically. Even though he was annoyed with Winky, he'd never tolerate his elf punishing herself.

Instead of an answer, Winky broke out into tears and hid her face behind the seam of her tea towel toga.

Harry startled. Winky was easily upset, however, this kind of behaviour was strange even for her; she was very sensitive and knew not to disturb them when they wanted their privacy.

Daphne realised it the same moment as he did. She crouched in front of Winky, took her by the wrists of her small hands and coaxed her to let go of the tea towel and look at her.

'What has happened, Winky?'

She only got an incomprehensible wail in return. She gathered the small creature in her arms for comfort and looked up at Harry, worry written all over her face.

Winky's outburst stopped as sudden as it had begun. She hiccuped for a last time, then took him and Daphne by the hand and Apparated them away.

Only a split second later they landed in the cheerful kitchen of Grimmauld Place. Another deafening wail greeted them.

An elf lay sprawled on the kitchen floor and banged its head over and over again against the hardwood of the floor. It wore the green tea towel toga of the Greengrass house elves.

Harry's heart plummeted into the deepest pit of his stomach. A ring of steel seemed to wrap around his chest, and he had difficulties breathing.

Daphne stared down on the house elf. All colour drained off her face, she swayed on her high heels, and Harry grabbed her by the arm to steady her.

'What has happened?' she asked. Her voice sounded like that of a stranger.

At the sound of the familiar voice the Greengrass house elf stopped wailing. It scrambled up from the floor, hurtled itself against Daphne, and wrapped its arms around her legs.

It was Poupette, one of the Greengrass house elves that cared for the house near France.

'Master and mistress and Miss Tori didn't come today,' Poupette wailed. 'Poupette can't reach them.' She buried her head against Daphne's legs and sobbed.

House elves always knew how to reach the members of their families. The hair on Harry's arms and the nape of his neck lifted when the meaning of Poupette's words began to sink in. 'You mean, their Portkey never dropped them at the house?'

Poupette didn't lift her head, but nodded vigorously.

Daphne covered her mouth with her hand, unable to hold back the small whimper that escaped her. Her eyes, huge and full of dread, looked up at him.

He put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a comforting squeeze. 'Have you been at _The Rectory?'_ he asked the house elf. _'_ Maybe Tori had an episode today so they couldn't travel.'

Poupette looked up at him with huge, red-rimmed eyes. 'Poupette bes at the big house first. Matty says master and mistress takes porty key this morning. Poupette ask Matty for help to find master and mistress. Matty can not reach them.'

Harry let go of Daphne and hurried to the fireplace in the adjoining family room. He threw a pinch of Floo Powder into the flames, knelt down and stuck his head into the now green flames.

'Auror Office.'

A few, disconcerting moments his head was spun through the Floo Network, until the face of a bored looking young Auror came into view.

All boredom, however, left his face when Harry reported what had happened, and a grim line appeared around his mouth. 'Please, step back from the fireplace, Mr Potter. A team of Aurors will be with you immediately, and I'll also alert the standby duty of the Portkey Department.'

Harry pulled his head out of the fire and stood up.

Daphne had followed him into the room. Her face was ashen, and she trembled all over her body.

He walked towards her and held her by her upper arms. 'A team of Aurors will be here presently, and they'll also inform the Portkey Department.'

Had she heard him? Her eyes, still full of shock and dread, seemed to stare through him. He guided her to the sofa, coaxed her to sit down, and wrapped a blanket around her.

The flames in the fireplace roared up and turned green. The next moment, two Aurors stepped into the family room. One of them was Ron, and Harry let out a breath of relief.

'What has happened?' Ron asked.

Daphne still was in shock and not capable to talk, so it fell on Harry to tell Ron and his partner the little information they had.

Ron's face became grim during his tale. His eyes flickered to Daphne, and back to Harry, and he let out an imperceptible sigh. 'Do you still believe all these incidents happen by accident?'

He had a point there, but now was not the right moment to discuss that. 'Please, Ron, not now,' he said, and pointedly looked down on Daphne's head leaning against his shoulder.

'Sorry, mate,' Ron said, and got up. 'I'm going to talk to the wizard on duty at the Portkey Department. They'll be able to track down if the Portkey has been used. Probably the coordinates were slightly off and the three have been deposited somewhere else in France and had to wait until they got a Portkey for the next leg of their journey. Tori isn't able to Side-Along-Apparate anymore, is she?'

'Yeah, you're probably right,' Harry said. Did his voice sound as if he believed Ron's explanation? It better had, at least for Daphne's sake. Portkey coordinates _could_ be wrong; however, had their family been deposited somewhere else in France, they would have contacted them by now to let them know they were safe: Cyrus as well as Isabella and even Tori knew their way around the Muggle world and would have had no problem reaching them on their cell phones.

Ron put his hand on his shoulder, gave Daphne a short hug and walked towards the Floo. The next moment he was gone in a burst of green flames. His partner, who had talked to the inconsolable elves, left shortly after him.

Harry looked at his wristwatch. It was well past midnight, and he pulled Daphne closer towards him. 'Let's go to bed, darling, it won't help in the least if you stay awake all night long and worry yourself sick.'

Daphne gave no sign that she had heard him, but when he stood up and pulled her with him, she followed him out of the room and towards their bedroom. She went through the motions to get ready for bed as if under the Imperius Curse, and when they finally lay in the darkness, the pattern of her breath indicated that she was still wide awake, though she didn't move at all.

He turned towards her and pulled her in his arms. 'Shh, darling, everything is going to be alright.'

What an idiotic thing to say. Portkey accidents were a rare occurrence, but they _did_ happen, and unfortunately almost always were fatal. Daphne knew that as well as he did.

She didn't answer, and lay in his arms as stiff and motionless as a log.

He knew neither of them would sleep that night.

* * *

They rose long before dawn on Christmas Eve, dressed, and took up their silent vigil on the sofa in front of the fireplace in the family room.

Winky brought them tea and a large breakfast spread, however, Daphne refused every dish with a shake of her head, and only accepted a cup of tea.

Harry couldn't blame her; his throat was constricted, and his stomach rolled. There was no way he could keep any kind of food down.

Winky's bat-like ears flopped down, and she looked as if she was about to cry. She vanished the breakfast dishes with a snap of her fingers. 'Winky will bring more tea.'

Harry's cold fingers curled around his mug, and he put his free arm around Daphne's shoulders. 'I wish there was something I could do.'

Daphne sighed. 'You know there isn't. We'll have to wait until we get news from the Aurors or the Portkey Department.' She leaned her head against his shoulder. 'Stay with me, will you?'

'Always.' He dropped a kiss on her head. Her worry and pain tore right into his heart; he'd have given anything to spare her this.

Darkness gave way to the late dawn of a winter's day. Soon after, the Floo flared up.

'Harry? Daphne? Are you already awake?' Ron's head appeared in the green flames.

Daphne almost jumped out of her skin, and then began trembling like a leaf.

Harry gave her a small hug, took the mug with the meanwhile cold tea out of her hand, put it onto the table in front of them, and got up. He kneeled in front of the Floo so that Ron could see him. 'Come through, Ron.'

Ron's head disappeared. A few seconds later he emerged from the fireplace and removed the soot from his Auror robes with a flick of his wand.

Harry motioned with his hand to one of the seats around the coffee table, sat down beside Daphne again and took her hand. Her fingers were ice cold. He looked at his best friend, and and the iron ring around his chest that had appeared last night seemed to tighten. The grim line around Ron's mouth didn't bode well. He needed to be strong for Daphne, so he took a laboured breath and asked the question he didn't want to know the answer to. 'You have news, Ron?'

Ron nodded and squared his shoulders. 'The Portkey Department worked all night to track down the movements of the Portkey your family used, Daphne. So far, they can confirm that the Portkey has been activated at the allotted time and took the preset course. However, shortly before it reached its destination, it veered off and has not touched down yet.'

The room seemed to spin around Harry, and his stomach rolled once again. He put his arm around Daphne. She huddled closer to him, her face even paler than before, if that was possible.

'You mean, our family has been spinning through the void for about twenty-four hours by now?' he asked. His voice sounded strange in his own ears. He cleared his throat. 'Is there a way to force the Portkey to touch down?'

'The specialists from the Portkey Department are working on that. It can be done, but it is a tricky business. The Portkey apparently isn't following a preset course anymore, but jumping around wildly. Knowing where it will be next so that they can target it with a spell is somewhat like Divination, the head of the Portkey Department told me. But they'll keep trying, there's still hope they can save them,' Ron said. His gaze didn't meet their eyes.

Ron was no fool, he knew just like them how slim the chances were that they would be able to get to Cyrus, Isabella and Tori in time. How long could someone being spun through the void last without getting crazy? How long until they would die of dehydration?

A small whimper beside him brought Harry back to the here and now. Daphne had buried her head in his chest; her shoulders shook. He put both his arms around her and rocked her gently. What was he supposed to tell her that would give her hope and comfort?

Ron cleared his throat. 'I'm sorry I have no better news for you. If there's anything we can do … Do you want Hermione and me to stay with you today?'

Daphne raised her head and looked at Ron. Her face was wet with tears; she wiped them away with the back of her hand and shook her head. 'I really appreciate that, Ron, but I think I need some alone time to understand what has happened.'

'Alright, if you need one of us to talk, to vent, or just for a shoulder to cry on, send a Patronus, no matter what time of the day or night.' He got to his feet, patted Daphne's shoulder with his hand, and gave Harry a long, stern look. 'Same goes for you, mate. If you need someone to talk to, tell us, and don't bottle up everything.'

Harry gave his best friend a weak smile. 'Thank you, Ron. I won't.'

The green flames of the Floo flared up and swallowed Ron, then died down and left the room in an oppressed silence. There wasn't anything more to do for them than waiting and hoping, and with each passing minute the chances of any sort of a happy ending dwindled.

Harry and Daphne spent the remainder of Christmas Eve waiting for a miracle that didn't happen. Daphne barely said a word, and stared into the fire all day long as if hypnotising the Floo to bring her the good news she longed for. However, the day passed with anymore news. When they went to bed late that night, she clung to him and cried herself to sleep.

Christmas Day was no different. Ron Flooed early in the morning to let them know there was no news, and then they waited. They still waited on Boxing Day, and the day after. Their friends alternated sitting with them, even Molly and Arthur Weasley came and kept them company during their silent vigil. It was comforting in a way; it was good to know they were not alone. However, both Harry and Daphne breathed a sigh of relief when their visitors left in the evening. The shock of what had happened still had to settle in, and somehow they could cope with it best when it was only the two of them.

This year, they had a bank holiday after Boxing Day. Daphne and Harry still didn't return to work on the twenty-eighth. Harry pulled Lisa aside when she and Justin were about to return home the evening before, and asked her to cancel all of their appointments.

'Of course, Harry; you don't have to ask. Daphne needs you by her side right now,' Lisa said, and gave him a sympathetic hug.

Harry swallowed hard. 'Listen, Lisa, I don't want … this ... to become public knowledge until … we know where they are.' His throat constricted again, and he coughed. 'Tell everyone that Daphne and I have taken a few days off and will be back in the new year. It should be quiet, anyway, around this time of the year.'

'You can count on our discretion, Harry. Would you like me to prepare a press statement, just in case?'

Harry's heart missed a beat, and his eyes stung. How could he think of something like that right now, while they still hoped for a miracle? However, deep inside of him there was the knowledge that it was already too late for Cyrus, Isabella and Tori.

He could almost hear Cyrus' voice on the day they had talked about what-if scenarios for a case like this. _You need to be prepared, Harry, too many families depend on the stability of the company. No matter how much you and Daphne are grieving, you have to put them first._

He covered his face with his hands. 'Oh Merlin, I hate this!' It took a few moments until he had regained his composure. He lowered his hands and gave Lisa a weak smile. 'Thank you, Lisa, I'd appreciate that.'

'Consider it done.' Lisa gave him another hug, and stepped inside of the Floo.

Harry returned to his place beside Daphne on the sofa. She still was as pale as a ghost, with dark rings under her eyes because of lack of sleep. Her sweater hung from her shoulders as if it was made for a bigger person. She'd hardly eaten anything over the last couple of days, and the loss of weight showed.

She leaned against him as soon as he sat down, as if she needed his support to sit upright, and he put his arms around her. They sat like that in silence for a long time.

'Harry?' Daphne raised her head from his shoulder.

He turned his head and looked at her. Her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot from crying, but dry. She bit her lips.

'They're not coming back, are they?' It was a statement, not a question.

Harry tightened his grip around her shoulder. 'I'm afraid not, darling.'

There was nothing more to say. Daphne put her head back on his shoulder, and together they continued waiting for the news they dreaded.

 _t.b.c._


	62. Chapter 59

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** As always, a big thank you to my editor extraordinaie Shygui.

 **WARNING: character deaths**

Chapter **59** to **61** , 06/09/18

* * *

 **59**

The news was the headline of _The Daily Prophet_ , and even some foreign magical newspapers.

 **Cyrus Greengrass Killed In Portkey Accident, Along With Wife And Daughter**

Below was a huge picture of Greengrass and his wife, taken at the last Ministry Ball. There also was a blurred picture of the daughter who had died together with them, Astoria. The girl had been kept out of the public eye by the family; rumours said she suffered from a blood curse that ran in the Greengrass family. Well, good riddance to bad blood.

A broad grin spread across his face. Success, at last; three down, two more to go. It had been ridiculously easy; nobody had expected him to strike from this angle. Quiet laughter shook him; he hadn't had an idea, either, until his current girlfriend had been called away from her workstation while he was visiting and fortuitously left the Portkey for the Greengrasses latest travel arrangements unsupervised for a few minutes.

It had been a matter of seconds for him to mess with the target coordinates and the duration of the trip, and his girlfriend had been too trusting to check the Portkey for signs of sabotage after she returned.

Unfortunately, he had been forced to take care of her after that, for obvious security reasons. It wouldn't do if she blabbed to the Aurors about having left him alone with the Greengrass Portkey, when the investigation about their Portkey accident would take place. She had been a great shag, but as dumb as they came. Though, he would miss her.

It was rather unlikely anyone would link her to him, and if Weasley should remember she'd been his date for their Christmas party, he could always claim he'd split up with her immediately after. His reputation for changing his girlfriends like other men changed their underwear would lean credence to that.

His ex was also estranged from her family, so nobody would miss her immediately, and the Muggles would have problems trying to confirm her identity, should her body even show up at the waste disposal site where he had dumped her. Given all his precautions it was unlikely the Aurors would ever even hear about another muggle body.

It was a pity, really, that Potter and his whore didn't travel with the rest of their family. That would have taken care of all his problems at once. His eyes fell on the big photo of the Chosen One and his wife next to the picture of the older Greengrass couple. It had been taken at the same ball; as always, those two radiated wealth, power, and sickeningly sweet happiness.

He doubted they were still wearing those silly smiles on their faces right now. The doll face of the whore surely wouldn't look half as pretty, blotched with tears and eyes red-rimmed from too much crying. Of course Potter, the loving fool he was, would try to comfort her. He almost gagged at the thought.

Well, she wouldn't need Potter's comfort much longer. He was on a roll, luck finally was with him. She and Potter would be next.

 _t.b.c._


	63. Chapter 60

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Another round of kudos to my fantastic editor Shygui, who made it with me through this depressing part of the story without complaining once.

Chapters **59** to **61, 06/09/18**

* * *

 **60**

Harry looked out the window of their bedroom, and down on to the rain-soaked square, while he tied his black tie. Had already one week passed since Ron had informed them that the bodies of Cyrus, Isabella, and Astoria had been found near a remote wizarding oasis in the Sahara? They had died of dehydration, the healers of St Mungo's who had examined the bodies had told them, but at the same time assured them that they hadn't suffered: the constant spinning of the Portkey would've forced them into unconsciousness long before that.

Had it been a merciful lie? There was no way to tell; for Daphne's sake it was better not to speculate. She seemed to find some comfort in the thought her loved ones hadn't suffered. Apart from that, she was a mess; ever since Poupette brought them the news their family had gone missing she'd hardly slept for more than four hours in a row, and then only out of sheer exhaustion.

He should've been there for her more than he'd been: she'd needed him. But it had been impossible; the huge media circus that had followed the news of Cyrus and Isabella's deaths had put a stop to that.

They had been able to keep the news of the disappearance of their family out of the papers, magical as well as Muggle, until they had been found. After that, things had become crazy. Cyrus and Isabella had been prominent in both worlds, and their sudden and unexpected deaths due to a light plane crash - at least that was the reason they had given the Muggle press - had caused a huge media interest. Daphne still wasn't in any shape for a public appearance, so he had dealt with the press ever since the first statement.

Unfortunately, the interest wasn't limited to the tabloid papers. Cyrus had been the C.E.O. of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products for almost three decades, while he and Daphne as his designated successors had little more than two years of practical experience under their belt. There had been a lot of speculation about the future of the company in the business section of the newspapers.

He had dealt with that, together with Lisa and Fleur, and had at least managed to keep Daphne out of the limelight as long as her grief was still fresh and overwhelming. Although, they still had to make a final decision about the future leadership of the company, and soon; during the last week Daphne had not been in any shape for that. Neither had he; unfortunately, nobody gave a fig. The press had refused to be content with a meagre press statement, so he had stepped up. They had scheduled a press conference at headquarters for the upcoming week to announce their decision about the future leadership of the company; they would need to find the time and space for the overdue talk about that on the weekend.

Soft steps on the carpet behind him made him turn around. Daphne just put on her wristwatch. The long-sleeved black sheath dress hung down from her shoulders like a sack. How much weight had she lost during the horrible ordeal of waiting? Hopefully, today would give her some closure.

'Are you ready?' she asked. Her voice was as lifeless as her dull eyes.

'As ready as I'll ever be.' He walked to their shared walk-in closet and picked the suit jacket from the hanger.

They had a long and trying day ahead; this morning there would be the memorial service for Cyrus, Isabella and Tori at the Muggle church in the village near _The Rectory._ The spectacle was for the sake of the Muggles; there were many Muggle friends, business partners and employees who wanted to make their last farewell. After that, the caskets would be taken to the grounds of _The Rectory,_ where the funeral would take place in private on the Greengrass family cemetery in observance of wizarding tradition.

He slipped on the jacket and a matching black winter coat, and returned to the bedroom. Daphne waited for him, also ready in a black winter coat and a broad-brimmed hat with a small veil on her head that obscured her face from the curious onlookers. He took her arm and guided her out of the house, where a dark limousine was already waiting for them. Cyrus' chauffeur for more than thirty years - a Squib who knew how to move in both worlds - had insisted on driving them today, and to be honest, Harry wasn't arguing.

Thanks to some built-in magical features the drive from London to the small, Kentish village that was the ancestral home of the Greengrass family for at least three centuries only took forty-five minutes instead of the usual hour and a half a Muggle car would have needed. Daphne hardly spoke a word during the ride, but her ice cold fingers clutched his hand as if it were a life line.

They were the last to arrive. The somber peal of a single church bell and a flock of journalists received them when they got out of the car. The rain had stopped, yet dark clouds hung deep in the sky, pushed forward by a strong wind that caused the seams of their winter coats to flap around their knees; a hint of salt on the wind reminded him they were not far away from the sea in this part of Kent. Daphne even had to hold on to her hat with one hand to prevent it from being blown away.

Harry put his arm around Daphne's shoulders and led her into the church, out of reach of the many cameras directed at them.

The fragrance of glasshouse flowers, mixed with the scent of burning beeswax candles, and the mossy odour of old stones assaulted his nose as soon as the heavy, old oak doors closed behind them. Every single seat in the small church seemed taken; a sea of black clad, murmuring mourners greeted them. Almost all heads turned towards them as he led Daphne down the aisle to the front row.

Daphne gave no indication that she noticed the attention they got. Her eyes were glued to the three caskets resting by the steps to the altar; they were almost swallowed by the many flowers that adorned them. She trembled all over her body, and Harry tightened his grip around her shoulders.

They took their places in the front row, between a low-ranking member of the royal family and the current Junior Minister for Business. The other front row seats were taken by prominent business partners, representatives of the charities Isabella had presided over, and executive employees of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products.

The service began soon after they had taken their seats. Pieces of music alternated with the traditional Christian funeral service performed by the priest of the local parish.

After the priest other people stepped up to share their memories of Cyrus, Isabella and Tori: a long-time Muggle business partner honoured Cyrus; he gave a poignant eulogy describing what he called Cyrus' way, and allowed the gathered masses to learn what had taken the man from a young C.E.O. who had taken up the reigns after his father's death to the renowned figurehead of British economy. A well-known and very respected lady of society spoke about Isabella and her passionate engagement in supporting the research of rare diseases, and finally Hermione stepped in front of the microphone and found moving words about Astoria, the Greengrass daughter who always kept in the background because of her frail health, and yet had brought so much sunshine into the lives of anyone she touched.

Harry listened to Hermione, and his throat constricted. Sweet, mischievous Astoria! Memories of the many times she had teased him like the little sister she had become to him flashed through his mind, and he clenched his jaw not to burst out into tears. He'd surely miss her, just like he'd miss Isabella's motherly gentleness.

His eyes flickered to Cyrus' casket. Would he miss him as well? Cyrus had manipulated him the worst way imaginable, and they'd been at loggerheads too many times to count. And yet … Cyrus had always shown him that he was proud of him, and encouraged and challenged him to do his best, not so much in words, but with subtle gestures.

His sight became blurry; the pain in the back of his throat intensified. Who was he fooling? He already missed the old bastard, he missed his trust and his advice, and he missed the sparring with words they had had whenever they met, and he would miss those fleeting looks of affection that Cyrus had for him, the ones that Harry couldn't find it in himself to return.

Another piece of music, then the final blessing, and the service came to an end. The pallbearers took their places at the sides of the caskets - Cyrus and Isabella's were picked from their friends and associates made during all facets of their successful lives. Tori's pallbearers, however, were her close friends from school, tears streaming down their faces, almost inconsolable that the bright and bubbly girl would no longer light up their lives.

With an almost practiced precision they heaved them on their shoulders, and began their slow departure down the aisle. Harry and Daphne followed behind the priest. At the door of the church they paused and watched the caskets being put into the hearses that would drive them to their last destination, while the many members of the international press took photos of the moment from behind the barrier they were forced to stay behind.

Daphne leaned on his arm, a sack of limbs and bones. Her eyes were dry and dull as she watched the caskets of her loved ones being prepared for their last journey. How much longer would she be able to hold on? He put his arm around her waist to support her, and released a silent breath when their car pulled up right behind the hearses.

He helped Daphne into the car and took his seat beside her. As soon as the door closed behind him, she took his hand in an iron grip and didn't let go of it during the short drive to _The Rectory._

The hearses drove on to the Greengrass family cemetery at the other side of the park, beyond the lake. Harry and Daphne, however, left their car in front of the gates to the backyard of the house. The cars with Hermione, Ron, Fleur, Bill, Lisa and Justin pulled up right after them. Their friends had attended the official memorial service to give their support as their closest friends, but also because the three women had worked with Cyrus on a daily base.

They entered the house, changed their Muggle coats for wizarding cloaks and hats, and went into the drawing room where the officiator waited for them.

A few minutes later, Matty popped into the room and tugged the officiator at the sleeves of his robes. It was the same wizard who had married Bill and Fleur, and had presided over Dumbledore's funeral. Since then, Harry had seen the man on many more funerals and weddings, his own wedding included; it seemed as if the wizarding world had nobody else to conduct this kind of service.

The officiator bent down, listened to what Matty whispered into his ears, and straightened.

'It is time.'

He turned towards the door, Harry following him, Daphne on his arm, and their closest friends behind them. The small funeral procession walked out of the backdoor, across the terrace, and down the path that led to the lake. It was almost the same way he had taken with Bill on his wedding day, however, instead of turning to the right and crossing the small bridge that led to the island in the middle of the lake, they continued on the path until they reached a small gate in a wall that bordered the surrounds of the house. Beyond the gate was the family cemetery, where three centuries of Greengrasses rested.

The caskets of Cyrus, Isabella and Tori were already waiting besides their open graves, suspended in the air by a Levitation Charm. The rest of the magical mourning guests had gathered at the opposite side of the graves.

A shiver ran through Daphne at the sight of the caskets, she trembled like a leaf in the wind, and Harry once again put his arm around her shoulders to steady her. This was it, the worst part you had to go through at every funeral: seeing the one you loved become one with the cold earth, and accepting that it was the final goodbye on this plane of existence.

The officiator began his speech about Cyrus, Isabella and Tori. Harry didn't listen; his attention was focussed on Daphne. She looked as if she would faint at any second, so he stepped behind her, enclosing her in his arms, and held her steady.

The voice of the officiator stopped, and Harry startled. He'd been so concerned for Daphne, he hadn't noticed the man being about to conclude the graveside service.

The officiator gave Daphne a small nodd.

Daphne took a deep breath and pulled her wand out of the sleeve of her dress. Now came the hardest task for her: as the only surviving member of the Greengrass family she had to cancel the Levitation Charm placed on the caskets, and had to Levitate them into their final resting place one by one.

Tears pooled in Daphne's eyes. She pointed her wand at Tori's coffin; it shook in her hand, it was a miracle she didn't let it drop. There was no way she'd be able to control the charm.

A single tear rolled down Daphne's cheek. Her mouth formed the words of the incantation, but no word got out, and Tori's casket didn't move one inch.

Subdued whispers flared up among the mourning guests.

Daphne swayed; Harry tightened his grip around her waist with his left hand and put his free hand on her hand that held her wand. 'Let's do this together,' he whispered into her ear.

A jolt seemed go through Daphne's body; she turned her head towards him and gave him a long look through eyes brimming with tears. And yet, for the first time since that horrible night Poupette had come to find them, there was a spark of his Daphne in the depth of her eyes.

'Together,' she whispered back.

His hand tingled where he touched hers, and then became warm. He pushed his own magic towards her wand, his hand steadying and guiding Daphne's, and Tori's casket descended into the grave.

They repeated the process on the caskets of Isabella and Cyrus.

As soon as Cyrus' casket disappeared in the grave, Daphne turned around in his arms and buried her head on his chest. He put both arms around her and stroked her back in soothing circles. When she finally raised her head, her cheeks were wet with tears.

Harry didn't release his grip around her shoulders when they together accepted the condolences of the magical mourning guests at the graveside. It seemed as if the line would never end.

There were Arthur and Molly, and also Percy and George with their wives. Even Charlie had come all the way from Romania to support them.

There also were more members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight than he'd ever cared to see. Daphne had little time for them, either, for that matter. Oh well, some social customs just couldn't be avoided. At least nobody expected him to smile today or be talkative, so he just nodded in response to the offered condolences of Pansy McLaggen-Parkinson, Narcissa Malfoy and others of their ilk, and turned to the next person in the line as soon as possible.

At last, the line came to an end. Harry and Daphne stepped in front of the three open graves for a last time.

Daphne stared down at the caskets of her family; she didn't tremble anymore, and she didn't cry. However, the tension of her body and the strain around her eyes told of a pain so overwhelming it consumed her whole being.

Harry's side tingled where she leaned against him; her pain seeped into him and threatened to overwhelm him as well. He had to get her away from here; she'd have a bout of accidental magic if she continued like this much longer.

He slipped out his wand and conjured three bouquets of cypresses and michaelmas daisies he offered to Daphne.

For the second time today a jolt seemed to go through her. She'd made him read _The Language of Flowers_ at the beginning of their marriage, so he wouldn't make a blunder when he had to send flowers to a Pureblood woman. Of course, she now grasped the meaning of the flowers at a first glance: mourning and farewell. The unbearable tension left her body, there was even the ghost of a smile around her lips, and she took the bouquets from him.

Again, he caught a spark in the depth of her eyes, but it was extinguished by her grief almost immediately.

She threw a bouquet in each of the graves, and turned her head to him. 'I think … I'm ready to leave.'

Harry let out the breath he'd been holding, offered her his arm and led her back to the house.

The mourning guests followed them. As it was custom, the elves had prepared refreshments they offered buffet style in the dining room, while the guests mingled in the reception rooms of the ground floor of _The Rectory._ The drawing room, the formal sitting room and the conservatory all had been opened to the guests, and yet the spacious rooms were crowded by the many wizards and witches who had come to pay their respects - or satiate their curiosity.

Soon, the oppressed mood of the graveside service gave way to animated talk. Harry and Daphne moved from one group of guests to the next and thanked them for their attendance. It took some time until they could finally settle down in one of the big sofas of the drawing room, a cup of tea in their hands.

Harry cast a look at his wife. Some colour had returned into her cheeks, even though she was still a far cry from her usual, glowing looks. At least she didn't look like the Grey Lady anymore, a look that had troubled him more than anything. She even listened into a conversation among Hermione, Lisa and Fleur, a faint smile on her lips.

Eventually, the mourning guests bade their goodbyes and left, until only Ron and Hermione stayed with them. Lisa, Justin, Fleur and Bill all had left their children in the care of relatives and were anxious to return home.

Harry let out a deep sigh, leaned back into the sofa, and loosened his tie.

Daphne gave him a small smile. 'You look as if you are in need of something stronger than tea.' She beckoned with her hand for Matty, who cleaned up after the guests, to come closer. 'Matty, get us some whisky. The real Scotch, not that dreadful Firewhisky, please.'

Matty nodded, and a few minutes later she brought a tray with a bottle of single malt and glasses.

Hermione declined, but the other three accepted the glass Matty presented to them.

Silence descended on the four friends while they sipped their drinks and unwound from the strain of the day.

Ron took a deep breath and put his glass on the coffee table in front of him. He leaned forward in his seat, rubbed the palms of his hands, and regarded Harry and Daphne with a long look from under furrowed eyebrows. 'I got the results of the investigation of the Portkey your family used this morning.'

Harry startled and sat upright. Beside him, Daphne also tensed. Ron's words hung in the air.

'I'm sorry to tell you, but the Portkey had been manipulated. It seems … someone … got hands on the Portkey after the coordinates had been set and modified them. My department is still investigating who had possible access to the Portkey. It doesn't help at all that the witch who was tasked with charming the Portkey for your family seems to have disappeared since around Christmas. It only became apparent when she didn't return to work this week after a holiday she took over the christmas period.'

Ron rubbed his face with the palms of his hands and gave Harry a long, hard look. 'Do you still believe I'm fantasising when I tell you Malfoy has hired an assassin to take out those he believes to be responsible for his imprisonment? The fatal attack on your family is the typical MO of a good assassin, Harry: perfidious, ruthless, and hard to nail down to a single person. What worries me even more is the disappearance of the witch from the Portkey department. It bloody looks like someone disposed of a potential witness.'

'Language, Ronald,' Hermione murmured, but it sounded half-hearted.

Harry cast a glance at his wife. How would she take this revelation on top of all she'd been through during the last two weeks?

The faint trace of colour had vanished from her cheeks.

Harry cursed under his breath. Couldn't Ron have waited with his news until Daphne had recuperated somewhat? He covered her hand with his and gave it a light squeeze.

She responded by linking her fingers with his. Her gaze was unfocussed, and she stared ahead, a slight frown between her eyebrows.

Harry let out a breath. This was no grief or shock, this was Daphne's expression when she was pondering a problem; he'd seen it on her face too many times to count. The next moment she'd worry her lips, then brush the hair out of her face and square her shoulders, always a sign she'd come to a decision. A weight seemed to fall from his heart, and a small smile appeared on his lips.

The frown on Daphne's face deepened, and she worried her lips between her teeth.

Nobody in the room spoke a word. Harry's eyes never left Daphne's face.

Daphne took in a deep breath, brushed a stray lock out of her face, squared her shoulders, and gave Ron a level look. 'I think you've got too narrow a focus in your investigation, Ron.'

Harry smiled his first genuine smile since the beginning of their personal tragedy. It seemed his Daphne was digging her way out from under the mountain of grief that had buried her. He put his arm around Daphne's shoulder and hugged her towards him. As always, she melted into his side.

'What do you mean by that?' Ron asked.

Daphne took another breath. 'Look, Ron, I don't deny that Malfoy is a prime suspect. Unfortunately, he's not the only one. My father was a scrupulously honourable man, albeit he had a very special definition of honourability.'

Harry snorted at that. 'You can say that again, darling.'

'Harry and I have been the targets of his special brand of honourability when he blackmailed us to marry. However, I'm sure there are many others who made similar experiences with him and didn't take it as well as Harry and I did.' She pointed with her thumb over her shoulder into the direction of Cyrus' study. 'Father used to employ a private investigator who collected information about simply everyone he had to deal with. I've only a faint idea of how many files about Muggles, wizards and witches are hidden in the cabinets of Father's study, and I really don't want to know what secrets are hidden in them.'

She bent forward, picked up her glass and took a fortifying sip. 'What I mean is, while Malfoy has a motive, there also might be others we don't know about and whose motives might be just as strong or in some cases stronger.' She put her glass back on the table and cuddled into Harry's arm, as if seeking shelter.

Ron pondered her words with a frown on his face, his arms crossed in front of his chest, and his eyes directed at the tips of his shoes. 'You have a point.' He raised his head and looked at Daphne. 'Will you give me access to your father's study as part of the investigation?'

Daphne startled in Harry's arms.

His belly gave an uncomfortable flutter, and he stiffened. He didn't have to look into her face to know Daphne's thoughts. Cyrus had been honourable, yes, but he'd never been squeamish about the means he used to get to an end. Merlin only knew what dirt they'd unearth from Cyrus' filing cabinets. There was no way Daphne would let the Auror Department get their hands on anything that might tarnish Cyrus' reputation. Who was he fooling? There was no way he'd let the Aurors get hands on something that might be potentially harmful for the reputation of the company; too many people depended on that.

He cleared his throat. 'I don't think that's a good idea, Ron. These are very confidential papers. I don't mean any offense, but you know as well as I do that discretion is still a foreign concept to many in the Ministry.'

Daphne nodded to his words.

Ron looked as if someone had taken away his favourite puppy.

Daphne gave him a close lipped smile. 'Look, Ron, I intend to go through Father's papers at some point. However, I'm not yet ready for that. Give me some time to cope and adjust to life without the rest of my family, and I promise I'll hand over to you everything that seems suspicious to me.'

Ron let out an unhappy sigh. 'I'd rather press on with the investigation while our leads are still fresh.' He scratched the back of his neck with one hand and gave a frustrated sigh. 'But I get it! I know this isn't easy, and I can't force you to hand over private papers to me, and no matter how I phrase it, the potential new lead you've just pointed out is too vague for the Wizengamot to grant me a search warrant for Cyrus' study.' He gave Daphne a very frustrated look. 'Fine, have it your way, just please do it as soon as you can bring yourself to face it.'

Hermione and Ron took their leave soon after that. Harry and Daphne escorted them to the front door.

Harry closed the door behind his friends and looked at his wife. 'Are you ready to return home?'

Instead of an answer, she bit on her lips, and her glance flickered down the hallway, into the direction of the park.

He should've known she was not yet ready to return without another visit to the graves of her family. He called for Matty.

The elf appeared with a low _plop._ 'Master?'

'Please, bring us our winter coats.'

The elf disappeared, and Daphne got on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss on the cheek. 'Thank you, Harry.'

Not even five minutes later they were on their way through the park. The heavy wind from the morning had lessened, and now the low clouds were dumping their loads on the wintery landscape. Instead of bothering with an umbrella, Harry had conjured a translucent shield around them that kept the rain away.

The early dusk of a winter day was falling when they entered the cemetery. However, there was still enough light for them to see that the graves had been closed. The three fresh mounds of dirt disappeared among a mountain of flowers.

They stood in front of the graves for a long time. Daphne leaned her head on his shoulder, and he put his arm around her. Her distress was palpable, though it seemed to have lessened somewhat, as if she was beginning to be resigned to her loss.

It became dark over Daphne's silent grief, and with the light the little warmth the day had held left and gave way to a numbing cold that seemed to seep into Harry's body. He tightened his grip around her waist and steered her to the gate in the wall. 'Come on, darling, it's about time to go. You'll become sick if you stay in this cold much longer.'

Daphne nodded to his words and allowed him to lead her away, but turned back to the graves of her loved ones at least twice on the short way to the gate. 'You know, I almost wish I could lay down beside them,' she said in a small voice and huddled against him.

How was he supposed to answer that? That she shouldn't say things like that? He cared too much for her to give her such a meaningless platitude in return. Instead, he hugged her closer, and dropped a kiss on her head.

'You know, each time I lost someone it felt as if my heart had been cut out of my body with a dull knife. It hurt like hell, and it hurt like that for a very long time. I doubt the hurt will ever go away completely. But after a while, it became bearable, and I learned to enjoy life again. You'll also get there, but it won't happen overnight; a loss like you suffered takes time to heal. Give yourself that time. You know I'll be right there beside you anytime you need a shoulder to cry on, someone to reminiscence, or just to vent your anger at the injustice of it all. Lean on me as much as you need to, I'm here for you whenever you need.'

She slid one arm around his waist and returned his hug. Once again, she turned her head and looked back into the direction of the family cemetery as if drawn by an invisible string.

'You don't want to leave them, do you?' Harry asked, and looked at Daphne.

They had reached the terrace. Her face was clearly visible in the light that poured onto the terrace from the huge windows of the drawing room, and wet with fresh tears. She bit her lips and shook her head.

Harry stopped, turned around to her and took her in his arms. 'Then we're going to stay here for tonight.' He dropped another kiss on her head and led her into the far to quiet house.

 _t.b.c._


	64. Chapter 61

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** at the bottom

Chapter **59** to **61** , 06/09/18

* * *

 **61**

On Sunday morning, they were still at _The Rectory._ They'd taken the guest suite that they habitually used whenever they didn't want to Apparate back to Grimmauld Place after a late night with their family.

Daphne picked up her last mug of tea from the breakfast table and walked into the family room, where she plopped down on to the huge lounge sofa. She put both hands around the mug and looked around in the familiar room. Everything was as it had always been: shelves with the favourite books and board games of the family, a stack of popular magazines on the low coffee table, and everywhere magical and Muggle pictures of members of the family over the last seven decades.

It was easy to pretend nothing had happened; it was as if Tori was up in her room, working on her embroidery, while Father had already left for work, and Mother was busy somewhere in the house.

However, she'd never been one for make believe, and she wouldn't start now, either.

Her heart was heavy in her chest. She'd lost her family, was she also going to lose Harry? Father's death before Harry turned thirty had mixed the cards a new; technically, the executorship of his grandfather's will had passed to her as the next head of House Greengrass. And what would Father's death mean for their marriage? Harry had never wanted to marry her, he had been blackmailed into that by Father. With Father out of the picture, there was no reason for him to stay with her, especially not in the light of her inability to conceive. Sure, he cared for her, but was that enough? He owed it to his house to find a woman who could give him children -.

Harry's silhouette darkened the door between the breakfast room and the family room, and interrupted her morose thoughts. He carried his own mug of tea in his hand and came over to sit beside her. He put the mug on the coffee table in front of him, turned towards her, cupped her cheek in his hand and wiped away a tear with the pad of his thumb.

Damned, she hadn't realised she was crying - again. She had to get a grip on herself, they had to make a couple of important decisions.

Harry's next words confirmed her thoughts. 'We need to talk; we have to come to a decision about the future leadership of the company. You and I hold all the shares jointly, so it's up to us to make that decision.'

She reached up and took his hand in hers. 'There isn't much to talk, Harry. Father always made it clear he wanted you to be his successor, so you're going to be the next C.E.O. of Crystal Fairy.'

A deep sigh escaped Harry's mouth. He pulled away his hand, propped his elbows on his knees, and rubbed his face with the palms of his hands. 'I know, but am I the right man for the job?' he asked, his face still covered with his hands.

Dull ache spread through Daphne's chest. There he was again, little Harry from the cupboard who was conditioned by his horrible relatives to think he'd never amount to much. He'd learned to overcome his insecurities in the last years, however, the loss of their family had shaken him badly, it was not surprising all of his insecurities would surface again right now.

She sat upright, put her mug on the coffee table, and turned towards him. She reached up, pulled his hands away from his face, and gave him a long, hard stare. 'Listen to me, Harry Potter, and listen good: Father groomed you for this position ever since we married. He was an expert in knowing people, and he was convinced you're the best choice to take up the reigns after him. Remember what he told us the last time we saw him? You are much better suited for this position than you give yourself credit for. Stop doubting yourself; I know you won't disappoint neither Father's memory nor me.'

Had she got through to him? She bit her lips, her eyes searching his, and waited for his reaction with bated breath.

His eyes had never left hers while she spoke. When she finished her heartfelt speech, silence reigned for several seconds, but slowly a hesitant smile appeared on his lips and turned into that adorable lopsided grin of his. He linked his fingers with hers. 'Thank you for your vote of confidence, darling. However, I have one condition.'

'And that is?' As if she wouldn't do anything he asked of her.

'I will agree to being the C.E.O. of Crystal Fairy, if you are willing to be my second in command. We're going to lead the company together, Daphne, I can't do it without you.'

'Of course you can count on me, Harry.' She squeezed his hands, then let go and shifted her position on the sofa, so there was now a gap between them.

'There's more we have to talk about.'

His eyebrows rose up a notch.

'We have to talk about us, Harry.'

He creased his eyebrows. 'Us? What's there to talk about?'

She didn't respond at once. Her hand fidgeted with the hem of her sweat shirt, and she avoided looking into his eyes. How was she supposed to begin an awkward conversation she'd rather not have?

Something like sudden understanding washed over his features. His face paled; he swallowed hard and backed away from her. 'You want to leave me, don't you? After all, your father blackmailed you into this marriage. He isn't anymore, so there's now no more reason for you to stay with me and pretend you're happy with me.'

Her head jerked around to him at that, and she gaped at him. It took her some moments to find her voice again.

'What? No, that's not what I meant, Harry! It's just the other way round. You never wanted to marry me. Also … I know how much you long for children, but as things are I doubt you'll ever get them from me. I'm not holding you to this marriage if you want out of it.'

Now it was his turn to gape at her. Some colour returned into his cheeks. 'You know, I thought you were the smarter one of us,' he finally said.

Her heart skipped a beat. Was he implying - 'What do you mean, Harry?'

'I made my decision to stay with you seven years ago, when you first offered me divorce. It hasn't changed since then.'

Had she heard him right? Her heart jumped into her throat. 'You don't want to leave me?' The words came out as a croak.

Harry gave her his devastating smile. 'Not as long as you don't ask me to. Don't be daft, darling, why should I walk away from the best thing that ever happened to me?'

'But … what about children?'

'I don't care if we ever have children. And who says we won't? Just look at what happened to my grandparents: my father came along when they had given up all hope of children of their own.' He scooted closer and put his arm around her shoulder. 'Maybe we should look into a blood adoption if we've both turned thirty and still don't have children. I don't want to be too old to be a father; after everything I've heard about my grandparents and the way they raised my father he's been a spoilt little prince. I understand where they came from, but I don't want to do that to our child.'

She leaned her head against his shoulder. Her heart jumped a happy dance in her chest, and a broad smile slipped on her face. He didn't want to leave her!

Though, he still didn't say he loved her.

Was his decision a carefully calculated business decision, because they both owned the company, and more bad news about the owners would be disastrous such a short time after Father's death? Or was it owed to the fact the Weaselette wasn't available? The news of her fourth marriage had been all over the tabloid papers last autumn.

Harry was still seeing her whenever he was in New York; the bitch took a twisted delight out of sending her photos a couple of weeks after his visits - anonymously, of course. Nothing in that photos was anything incriminating; they'd all been taken in public places, quite a lot of them even at events Harry couldn't avoid to attend.

Well, she'd decided to trust Harry until he'd prove her wrong. Merlin knew what a manipulative bitch the Weaselette was: she had learned that special lesson years ago on that first Christmas in the kitchen of _The Burrow._

She adjusted herself in Harry's arm. Warmth spread through her when he put his other arm around her, held her tight, and dropped a kiss into her hair, like he'd done so many times before.

No, as long as the bitch stayed on her side of the Atlantic, she wouldn't put too much stock in her little games.

She raised her head and looked at her husband. Harry leaned forward and closed the gap between them.

She enjoyed the familiar pressure of his lips on hers, and tangled her hand in his messy locks. However, a single small seed of doubt remained, buried deep in her soul.

 _t.b.c._

 **End of Part Two**

* * *

 **Author's notes:** Phew, another part done! I'm sorry for the angst ride I put you through, but it couldn't be helped. This part was all about losses they had to suffer and how they dealt with it as a couple. After all, I hinted at the events in the prologue.

In Part Three I'll finally pick up with the timeline of the prologue, and you'll find out how Ginny's return to England will influence Harry and Daphne's relationship.

You all have no idea how much this story benefits from Shygui's editing, his keen eye for plotholes and the many insightful questions he asks about the plot and the development of the characters. So, please, a huge round of applause for Shygui. He deserves more than that for all the work he puts into my story.

Another big thank you to all the faithful readers who stuck with me during this angst ride with only minor complaints. I'll make it up to you in the end, I promise.

I'll start posting Part Three on November, 1st. Right now, five and a half chapters of that part are finished. I had planned on having written more chapters at this point, but real life came between me and my keyboard. I'll be travelling until September, 16th, and while I theoretically have time for writing, I'm too knackered each evening after one of our hiking tours to get done much. In October I'll be travelling a lot for my job, with little time left to write. But by November I should be back to the ten chapters written in advance I like to keep in the background.


	65. Chapter 62

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** As always, a big THANK YOU to my fantastic editor Shygui. You are the best!

I have some good and some bad news. The good news is I got promoted and will be working full hours again, beginning today, after almost twenty years in a part-time job. The bad news is, I won't be done with 37,5 hours a week, it's more likely 45 to 50 hours from now on, which will cut into my writing time. Don't worry, I'll continue writing as a stress outlet, so everything I've started will be finished, only slower than anticipated. I'll post part three of this story once a week on Thursdays. There'll be at least 3k words each time, probably more. It's not yet decided whether I'll need another break from posting in January and/or February to stay ahead with my finished chapters. What I have so far lasts until the end of the year, and I hope to add about 500 words a day, in spite of my changed working hours. It's a good thing I'm a fast writer, I guess.

Chapter **62** , 01/11/18

* * *

 **Part Three**

 **March 1998 - June 1998**

 **Time of Trial**

* * *

 **62**

 _ **Malibu, California, April 2008**_

Ginny stood at the edge of the pool terrace of her house in Malibu, California, and looked down at the papers in her hand.

The house was her secret retreat; bought from part of the compensation she'd got out of the divorce agreement after her third marriage, it was situated on a cliff just below Pacific Coast Highway in a solely Muggle neighbourhood. None of her devoted fans in the wizarding world would think of looking for her in the ultra-modern, ultra-minimalistic concrete monstrosity that looked like a two-story bomb shelter from the outside, all be it an elegant one.

She didn't care much for the minimalistic design of the house and its interior, either. What had captured her the moment she'd set foot into the open plan ground floor that overlooked the pool and a long, narrow garden was the view on the Pacific Ocean, and the eternal, soothing sound of the waves slapping on the small, private beach at the foot of the cliff.

It reminded her of the view from _Shell Cottage,_ the house Bill had bought for Fleur not long after they were engaged. Shortly after that, she'd become Harry's girlfriend, and she'd begun dreaming of the house Harry would buy for her: a house on a cliff where she'd live with Harry and their three children, a boy who looked like him, and little twin girls with fiery red hair, and they'd be happy for ever after …

She let out a bitter snort. Little had she known back then that all her dreams of a future with the Boy-Who-Lived would be shattered into tiny pieces not even three weeks later. Dumbledore got murdered, Harry broke up with her and left her behind to go on his next adventure with Ron and Hermione. It had seemed to her she'd always been the one who was left behind: little Ginny, too small to play with the big kids, too dumb and naïve to tell her anything important.

Back at Hogwarts, she'd had to pay the price for her naïvité. She hadn't seen it coming; she'd still been basking in the memory of the heroic way she'd dealt with his break-up, and the kiss to remember her she'd given him on his seventeenth birthday. To her surprise nobody believed that Harry and her had broken up for good, least of all the Carrows. His faithfulness and loyalty to those he cared for were too well known, so they just assumed it had been a hoax. The Carrows had tortured her again and again in the vain attempt to learn Harry's whereabouts from her.

Her eyes swerved to the tanned, dark haired man who dozed in a lounge chair next to the pool. A reluctant smile crept over her face. If it hadn't been for him, she would've likely died within the first two weeks of her sixth year.

Something had broken in her when she realised that Harry had left her without a second thought to her safety under the new regime at Hogwarts. But her saviour had been there, he had saved her and made sure she was prepared as best as she could for the fights ahead of her.

Too bad they both didn't have the money to live their dream …

She sighed; her gaze returned to the papers in her hands. She was free, again, her fourth marriage was dissolved - and not one day too soon, truth be told. She traced her hand over the faint scar on her right forearm. Giles had been an abusive bastard, she couldn't recount the many times he'd beaten her up and she had to mask her bruises as "training accidents". However, she'd known before her marriage into what she was getting herself, and had decided the price was worth the … unpleasantness. And she'd made him pay. His public image was his weak spot, and she'd used that to her advantage. Either he'd agree to her demands, or she'd get the money by selling the exclusive interview about her sufferings during their marriage to one of the big international magical papers. Suffice to say that their divorce agreement had been the most … satisfying out of the four she had.

With another sigh, she folded the divorce papers, stashed them in the back pocket of her faded, very short cut-off jeans, and looked out onto the ocean. Here she was, Ginny Weasley, highest paid Quidditch player in the world, sought-after model, international superstar, twenty-six years young, rich, independent, and of a wild beauty that made males all over the world lust after her.

But she also had four marriages under her belt, had estranged herself from her family and was - empty.

She kept staring on the ocean, blind for the beauty of the scenery. All she saw was a handsome face with fascinating emerald eyes under a mop of untamable black hair. Everything came down to him; she was the shell of the Ginny Weasley she'd been once ever since the day he'd broken up with her after Dumbledore's funeral.

She narrowed her eyes, her mouth set in a grim line. It was about time she changed that. She wouldn't be able to go on, live in peace or whatever, before she'd got even with him.

The touch of a tender hand on her shoulder startled her out of her black thoughts.

'We've finally reached our goals, haven't we?' he asked in a soft voice.

She turned around, encircled his waist with her arms, and leaned her head against his broad chest. His heart thumped like a hammer, the only indication that he wasn't as calm as he pretended to be at the outside.

'I guess so.'

'You guess so?' He lifted her face with his index finger so that she was forced to look at him. His lips were curled in an amused smile, however, it didn't reach his eyes. His gaze was guarded, apprehensive, as if he already knew what she was going to say.

She hesitated; should she really go on with her plans? Wasn't it about time to let go of the past and concentrate on their future?

The decision was made in a split second. She'd nourished her grudge too long to let go of it that easily. Harry Potter owed her, and she'd make him pay.

'You know about my long-term plan, love,'

'Potter!' he spat.

He let go of her, almost pushing her away, turned his back at her and carded a hand through his wavy dark hair. His shoulders raised and lowered in a deep breath.

She loved his self-control, it was such a contrast to the men of her family, such a contrast to Harry … It added to his appeal, that touch of mystery and danger had drawn her towards him ever since he'd rescued her and taken her to his room in the Slytherin dungeons that fateful night.

When he turned back to her, his face was calm and composed; it betrayed nothing of the disappointment she knew he felt.

'Don't you think it's about time to let go of that old grudge of yours, love? I mean … It's kinda obvious that Potter isn't interested, isn't it? For five years you've done everything, but parade naked in front of him to catch his interest whenever he was over here, and he didn't go for the bait once.'

What?

Her chest constricted; spots flashed at the edge of her vision. She squinted at the young man in front of her through narrowed eyes. Had he really said these hurtful words?

'You … you …' Her mouth found it impossible to form words. Tears shot into her eyes; she whirled around, her fists clenched at her sides, and she stared out onto the ocean without seeing anything.

'You don't understand. It's something I have to do to get closure,' she finally managed to get out.

He stepped behind her and put his hands on her shoulder. 'I understand more than you give me credit for, love. However, what he did to you is so very far in the past. I don't want to see you get hurt.'

His face was close to hers, and his warm breath sent a shiver down her spine. Ginny clenched her fist; this wasn't fair, once again he used her physical attraction to him to get his way. She wouldn't allow him to manipulate her. She took a deep breath, fighting off his allure.

'Harry will never hurt me - at least not intentionally.' That was true, the noble prat didn't have it in him.

There was a tender squeeze of her shoulders, and again she shivered. 'That might be true, but what about his wife? Remember, she's a snake; she won't be held back by the same moral values that apply to Potter.'

He must be kidding. She snorted. 'His wife? That wet washcloth? I've dealt with her before and won each time, love. She won't stand a chance the moment I'll begin fighting for Harry in earnest.'

His hands clenched into her shoulders, almost painfully. 'So, you're planning on returning to England?'

Ginny leaned back against him, revelling in the warmth of his hard body. She should've known he was already thinking one step ahead and anticipating her next move. 'Yeah, it's about time I meet her on her home turf. The tenth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts is in a couple of weeks. I got an invitation to the annual Veterans Ball today. That's exactly the right time and place to announce my return to magical England.'

The grip on her shoulders intensified. 'Are you sure about that, love?'

A cold shiver ran down her spine, as if someone was walking over the space where her grave would be. She'd never given a fig for superstitions like this, and wouldn't begin to right now, either.

'Yes …' Her voice faded, and she swallowed. 'Yes, I am sure.'

Who was she convincing, him or herself?

He took another deep breath. 'So mote it be.' His voice was a whisp in the air.

She looked out onto the ocean and suppressed another shudder. No, she wasn't superstitious at all. But where, by Circe, did that feeling of dread come from that all of a sudden threatened to overtake her?

'So mote it be,' she repeated.

* * *

 _ **The Silver Phoenix Resort, May 8th 2008**_

The reception rooms at the _Silver Phoenix Resort_ rivalled the best that the U.S.A. had to offer. It seemed British magical society was at last finding its way out of the backwater and was attempting to join the worlds more advanced magical societies in the twenty-first century.

Ginny cast another surreptitious look at the mingling ball guests, a glass of elven champagne in her hand. Every now and then she took a sip of the expensive drink, and tried to comprehend the amazing changes that had taken place in the ten years she'd been away.

While the men still adhered to formal dress robes, albeit the modern ones that mostly resembled a Muggle dinner jacket, almost all women had opted for fashionable Muggle dresses, and none of the women seemed to care about the modesty that had been expected of magical women before the war. The dresses were throughout more sexy and revealing than she'd thought she'd ever see in a ballroom on the British Isles.

Ginny suppressed a frustrated sigh and looked down at her own expensive designer ball gown. So much for her idea of standing out of the crowd in an opulent, off the shoulder ball gown of golden lace, with a sweetheart neckline over layers of wide swinging chiffon petticoats.

It had seemed to be a good idea when she came across the dress in New York the day she'd left for England: the colour was a subtle reminder of the dress she'd worn at Bill's wedding to that Veela tart. Harry hadn't been able to tear his eyes off her that night, and he surely would remember that when he saw her in a gown of the same colour. The wide skirt gave her a touch of youth and innocence, while the tight bodice and the way the dress hugged her chest and her hips sent a completely different message: she was a grown up woman who had a lot to offer. Even Harry should be able to understand that.

Unfortunately, there were at least ten women in her vicinity who wore a ball gown of exactly the same cut and several others who sported similar colours.

She frowned and took another sip of champagne while her eyes wandered to her escort. It was a pity she wouldn't be able to rouse Harry's jealousy with a fantastic date by her side. After almost ten years in the U.S.A. she'd lost touch with her former friends and found herself in the uncomfortable position to have nobody of real standing in this country she could ask to take her to the ball.

She sighed; of course it was perfectly acceptable to be escorted by her agent; after all, he'd done that many times in the past when her current husband wasn't available or she'd been single between two marriages. Though, it was just slightly better than having to ask her only unmarried brother, Charlie, to take her to the ball, and it as sure as hell wasn't the impression she wanted to make on Harry. She needed to be desirable and just out of reach …

She sighed again. At least she'd managed to turn up before Harry and his timid wife did. This way, she could watch him from the background and plan her next moves. It should be easy to get rid of Greengrass - .

A commotion on the gallery at the opposite side of the reception area, where the Floo entrance to tonight's festivities was located, made her look up. The Floo was cordoned off along both sides; flocks of reporters and photographers with cameras at the ready crowded behind the ropes. A red carpet led from the Floo down the grand staircase towards the reception area and guaranteed a good view of new arrivals.

The green flames of the Floo framed a couple emerging from the fireplace. The raven haired man helped the petite, blonde woman by his side out of the fireplace. Harry and his Merlin bedamned wife had arrived, finally. Cameras flashed, and the shouts of the reporters were clearly audible down here, even above the ruckus the many people in the reception area made.

A small, predatory smile appeared on Ginny's lips. Harry wouldn't be able to escape her tonight.

Ginny put the champagne flute on the bar table next to her. Her eyes took in the sight of Harry, and she moistened her lips. Dressed in black, dinner jacket style robes that showed off his broad shoulders, and an emerald green waistcoat with silver embroidery that emphasized his eyes he was prime eye-candy.

He had his arm around the waist of his petite blonde wife, who seemed to be glued to his side, and looked down on her. The next moment he had led her past the obnoxious reporters, and they swept down the grand staircase.

It was impossible to take her eyes off them. At least she wasn't making a spectacle out of herself: all eyes in the room were on the Potters. Ginny's stomach hardened, and she clenched her teeth until her jaw hurt. It should've been her at Harry's side …

Her eyes appraised magical England's hottest celebrity couple. Either they had a very good image consultant on their payroll, or Greengrass was far cleverer than she had given her credit for. Her ball gown was made of a subtle shimmering silver material that matched the embroidery on Harry's waistcoat. A diamond necklace sparkled around her long and slender neck, and her light blonde hair shimmered like moonlight in the light of the chandeliers.

That choice of colors and accessoires was a masterstroke: the light and shimmering colours were not only the perfect background for Harry's dark handsomeness, but complimented his looks. Damn, for anyone who didn't know Harry and his real feelings as good as she did, they looked as if they were made for each other.

Ginny took another look at Harry's wife. Though she didn't have her spectacular colours, there was no denying she was an attractive woman. Her body more than made up for what her face lacked: only very few women had the figure for the tight fitting, strapless mermaid dress she wore. Damn it, when had the insignificant mouse become that sexy?

Harry and his wife took their place at the end of the reception line; his arm still was around her waist, and with his other hand he now cupped her chin in his hand, caressing her cheekbone, and turned her face towards him. He said something to Greengrass, a slight frown on his face. Her answer didn't seem to appease him, for the frown stayed on his face. Greengrass put a finger on his lips, and they exchanged a long look. At last, Harry leaned forward, kissed his wife, and let go of her chin, though his other arm was still draped around her waist. They both smiled at each other in a way that excluded everyone else in the room.

A burning sensation spread in Ginny's stomach, and she clenched her teeth. While she could understand the need for him to play the devoted husband in public, there was no need to overdo it like he just had done, surely he had some standards. That was revolting; by the way he couldn't seem to keep his hands off his wife, and the tenderness he showed towards her, he had almost fooled her in believing he was in love with his insignificant ant of a wife. Of course, that just couldn't be, it was well known that Potter men fell in love at a very young age and loved only once in their life.

From the corner of her eyes Ginny watched the reaction of the people surrounding her to the public display of the Potters. All eyes were naturally directed at the young couple. That wasn't surprising; ever since his return to the magical world aged eleven, Harry had been at the center of public interest, and it had got worse after his defeat of Voldemort.

However, what she now saw in the faces of the wizards and witches surrounding her was not only the plain hero worship she had seen whenever she'd made a public appearance with Harry in the few, short weeks she had had with him after the Battle of Hogwarts. No, there were soft smiles and wistful sighs from the women, and many chagrined male stares were directed at Harry, not that he was aware of that.

A matron about her mother's age in a raspberry-red ball gown let out a deep sigh. 'Oh, they are so sweet together! They really look and act like a couple out of a fairytale, don't they?'

Ginny picked up her glass of champagne and took a sip to hide her disgusted expression. She had forgotten that British wizards and witches loved to exaggerate. If they only knew how clueless Harry was around the female sex. She chuckled into her glass. Harry, the model husband, that was priceless. No, even Saint Potter was a male like any other: he was turned on by his wife's body, but there wasn't more to it than that. Harry had given his heart away at a very young age, there wasn't anything left for Greengrass, other than the physical side of their relationship. After all, even Saint Potter had to have needs.

The arrival of more ball guests obscured Harry and his wife from her vision. Soon after that, the doors to the ballroom opened. She drained her glass and put her hand on the arm of her escort.

'Shall we go inside and find our places?'

He complied by offering her his arm, and they drifted inside the ballroom among the swarm of ball guests who had the same idea.

As always, she gained a lot of attention, although not as much as she might have garnered in the U.S.A.. Many curious eyes were on her and her date, and she received the admiration she was due with a charming smile and a modest inclination of her head.

The huge ballroom was designed like an atrium. The dance floor in the middle of the room was crowned by an at least twenty feet high vaulted glass roof. Dozens of round dinner tables were set up under the arcades that ran along the four sides of the room. Rambling Rainbow Roses climbed the pillars of the arcades, and sweet smelling Rainbow Roses also decorated the table. The long rays of the late spring sun strew golden lights on the scene through the glass ceiling. It was like sitting somewhere on a plaza in Italy.

She looked around. Where were they supposed to sit?

'I have the honour of having you as my dinner partner tonight, Ginny,' a booming voice said behind her.

Ginny turned around and gave the Minister for Magic her most charming smile. 'What a pleasant surprise, Kingsley.'

Indeed, it was perfect. Harry had followed the Minister, his wife by his side, and Hermione and Ron brought up the rear. As the heroes of the war they'd most likely sit at a table with the Minister.

She cast a surreptitious look at Greengrass. Her face had assumed a decidedly green hue the moment she recognised her. Merlin, that woman _was_ a wet dishrag: the last time they'd clashed she'd also lost her bowels. Maybe she could get rid of her with a few well-placed barbs during dinner.

Her escort held the chair out to her, and she sat down with a soft smile on her lips.

This ball would be a night to remember.

 _t.b.c._


	66. Chapter 63

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Thank you to Shygui for editing this chapter. His additions added a lot to the depth of the characters and, even more important, kept them in character.

* * *

 **63**

 _ **The Silver Phoenix Resort, May 8th 2008**_

Daphne and Harry followed Kingsley and his wife into the ballroom. It had become tradition that they were seated at the minister's table for the formal dinner that preceded Veterans Ball, together with Ron, Hermione, Neville, and his wife Hannah. Only the fifth couple on the table of ten changed from year to year, depending on whom Minister Shacklebolt or the Wizengamot deemed worthy of that special honour. This year, being the tenth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, it probably would be some foreign dignitary from one of the countries that had lent a helping hand to magical Britain with the rebuilding activities after the war.

She nodded and smiled at acquaintances at the tables left and right while she followed Kingsley on Harry's arm, and didn't pay much attention to where they were heading. A suppressed cuss word from Harry, however, made her look up. The next moment their small procession came to a halt behind Kingsley and his wife.

'I have the honour of having you as my dinner partner tonight, Ginny,' Kingsley said in his booming voice.

Daphne's heart missed a beat and plummeted straight into the deepest pit of her stomach. The Weaselette, Merlin damn her. She was not yet ready to face her, and she was definitely not ready to make small talk to that bitch all dinner long.

As if on cue, dizziness washed over her once again, she swayed on her feet and leaned heavily against Harry.

He had stiffened at the sight of the Weaselette; when he realised her discomfort, however, he tightened his grip around her waist and gave her another of his scrutinising looks from under furrowed eyebrows. 'You're still pale; are you sure you can make it through tonight? We can leave if you need to,' he whispered into her ear.

There was no way she'd leave the ball, not as long as that woman was here and after Harry. She turned her head and gave him a soft kiss on his cheek. 'Of course I will; don't worry that much, honey.' Her stomach gave another uncomfortable squirm. It still remained to be seen if she'd make it through the evening.

Harry led her to her place and held out her chair for her. She sat down with a polite nod to the Weaselette, and received the barest of nods in return. Instead of leaving immediately and greeting the Weaselette, Harry took her hand in his and raised it to his lips. Her breath hitched; she looked up at him with wide eyes: Pureblood gestures like this were way out of his comfort zone, she couldn't remember him ever doing that.

His eyes still were full of concern as he looked down at her. 'Take care,' he mouthed, and kissed her knuckles once again. He lowered his hand and caressed her cheek with the back of his index finger, running it down and under her jaw line. Warmth spread through her body and engulfed her like a comforting hug, and the dizziness dissipated.

Harry winked at her, then walked around the table to greet the Weaselette and her escort.

'Harry!' the Weaselette squealed. 'It must be years since we last met. How are you?' She reached up with her arms to him; there was no doubt she expected a hug from him.

Daphne bit her lips. Had that been their usual greeting during all these years when Harry met her in the U.S.A., but never talked about it?

He surprised her when he spared her the humiliation of an affectionate greeting with his ex-girlfriend on Veterans Ball, at least fifty percent of the attendees were their former classmates and well aware of the history Harry and the Weaselette shared. Instead, he gave her the formal greeting with a bow and an indicated kiss on the knuckles, and left her immediately after that to exchange a handshake with her escort. In stark contrast to that, his greetings with Neville and Hannah, who had turned up soon after them: in addition to the formal greeting he hugged Hannah and kissed her cheek, and Neville got a handshake and a one-armed hug.

Harry took his seat in the place of honour next to Hestia, with Hermione on his other side. Within another minute the three were engrossed in a lively conversation, with Ron throwing in his two Knuts from his place between Hestia and Hannah.

Hannah looked at Daphne across the table and rolled her eyes.

Daphne chuckled, despite of the unease that still lurked just under the surface of her consciousness. 'Poor Hannah,' she said to Neville, who slipped into the seat beside her. 'Those four are talking politics yet again. Had I known what a monster they created when the Wizengamot offered Harry the hereditary seat, I never would have encouraged him to take it.'

Neville laughed out loud at that. 'Yeah, I never would've imagined Harry becoming the consummate politician - nor Ron following him down that path, for that matter.'

Daphne joined his laughter. She pulled a bottle of sparkling water out of the cooler in front of her and poured herself a glass. 'It's not that surprising really when you think about it,' she said, putting the bottle back. 'Ron said he'd always have Harry's back, and so did Hermione. I guess there's not such a big difference between hunting down a Dark Lord and leading a faction on the Wizengamot that strives for nothing less than overturning the system.'

They laughed again. Daphne took a sip of her water. Over the rim of her glass she caught a glimpse of the Weaselette, and she stiffened. The tart tossed her fiery mane over her shoulder and sent a seductive side-glance towards her husband. Harry - Morgana bless him - didn't even notice, and the smile on her face, confident of success, turned into a pout and a frown.

Neville sniggered. 'Seems there's someone put out that her cheap tactics don't work.'

Daphne relaxed. Good, old Neville! He'd become one of her staunchest supporters since her marriage to Harry: he was her third cousin and a Pureblood, so he knew that blood was thicker than water. His offense on her behalf meant a lot to her, and she put her hand on his arm and gave him a thankful squeeze.

Neville winked at her, then joined the conversation among Hestia, Harry, Hermione and Ron with a question of his own. Before even the first course was served, the whole table was drawn into a discussion of the latest attempt of Harry's faction to railroad a bill against discrimination.

Daphne chuckled to herself. His days as the leader of the Hogwarts Resistance had done wonders for her cousin's self-esteem. Just like Harry, he carried himself with quiet confidence and was looked upon as a leader by the population of magical Britain. The way he steered the conversation and drew everyone into it was almost Slytherin.

Well, not everybody partook in their conversation. She cast a surreptitious look at the Weaselette.

She looked at her plate, and a deep frown marred her unfortunately still beautiful features. From her former attempts to change the topic it was not difficult to deduce that the current discussion went clearly over her head. It was her tough luck that Kingsley was as consummate a politician as Harry and forgot everything about his dinner partner over the interesting topic.

Daphne pushed the food on her plate around while she enjoyed the show; her stomach still hadn't settled down properly, and her usual hearty appetite had deserted her. She cast another quick look at the stormy face of the Weaselette. Had something like this happened at her dinner table, she would've felt obligated by her duties as the hostess to step in and lead the conversation into another direction so that the woman wasn't left out. Tonight, however, that was Hestia's duty. What a pity that she was such a negligent hostess - not.

Neville turned his head and winked at her.

On a whim, Daphne leaned towards him and kissed his cheek. 'Thank you, Nev.'

He put his arm around her and gave her a brief hug. 'Anything for my favourite cousin.'

'Oy, hands off my wife, Longbottom, only I get to paw that merchandise,' Harry called across the table, laughter in his eyes.

Neville threw up his arms in mock surrender, and everyone broke out into laughter.

Except the Weaselette. Her eyes shot brown daggers at Daphne across the table.

Did the tart really think that blatant display of anger would impress her? She'd survived seven years in the Slytherin dungeons, and another six years of politicking at Harry's side ever since he had ascended to the Wizengamot; she was used to deal with deadlier enemies than the Weaselette.

She returned the death stare with the sweetest fake smile in her repertoire. The Weaselette was the first to avert her eyes. Hah, take that, bitch!

Soon after that, dinner came to an end, and the music began to play.

As it was custom, the first two dances of the evening were reserved for the dinner partners. Daphne danced with Neville and Kingsley, as she'd done many times before on similar occasions.

The orchestra intonated a slower piece. Traditionally, the third dance was for the couples. Daphne smiled and looked out for her husband. Harry had become a good dancer, and she loved dancing with him. She finally discovered his black mop of hair among the couples on the dance floor, and the smile froze on her face.

He was dancing with the Weaselette.

Daphne's heart turned into a ball of ice and plummeted into the deepest pit of her stomach. How could he? Didn't he notice the curious looks he and the Weaselette got because of their breach of unwritten Pureblood ball etiquette? Didn't he notice the wagging tongues of the couples around them? He might as well have put an announcement into _The Daily Prophet_ that he intended to begin an affair with the Weaselette, because that would be the rumour that would spread through magical Britain like wildfire before the night was over.

Years of Pureblood breeding kicked in without conscious effort. She drew in a deep breath to center herself, and schooled her face into a mask of polite indifference. She had to keep her dignity; she wouldn't let anyone know how hurt she was.

She cast a surreptitious look at Harry and the Weaselette. At least they kept the socially acceptable distance between them, though it was obvious that the tart tried to snuggle up to Harry as close as possible. Daphne's hands curled into fists at her side, and she dug her nails into the palms of her hands to keep herself from screaming.

'I believe this is my dance,' a silky voice said. A hand on the small of her back propelled her onto the dancefloor, and the next second she was drawn into a dance.

Her head jerked up, and she looked into the dark eyes of her former dorm-mate. He'd danced the second dance with the Weaselette, and all of a sudden she knew that he had helped the tart to her dance with Harry. Harry had been tutored in Pureblood ballroom etiquette by Mother: he'd never do anything to hurt and humiliate his wife in public, that just wasn't him. Still, had the Weaselette forced him to dance with her the way the tart's lover just had done with her, he would have had to comply to avoid a scene.

'No, it is not,' she said, and gave him an icy glare. 'And you are well aware of that, aren't you? After all, you just helped your lover to hit on my husband. I had no idea you've become a procurer after Hogwarts who helps his pros to get their next suitor. Though, I'm afraid she won't be successful this time.'

His dark, handsome face gave an almost undetectable twitch at her insult. Hadn't she known him so well from their school days, she would have missed it. Hah, she'd got to him! She raised her chin and narrowed her eyes at him.

He spun her around, out of earshot of the couple dancing next to them. 'Oh, Ginny _always_ gets what she wants.' His voice still was as soft as Acrumantula silk, his eyes, however, as cold as the South Pole, signalled danger.

Daphne's stomach hardened, and the hair on her arms and on the nape of her neck lifted. Had that been a threat? The reputation of his family lent credence to that assumption.

His lips quirked into a smile that didn't reach his eyes: a shark's smile that mocked her and put her into her place.

Heat flushed through her body. Her nostrils flared. How dare he? She was the daughter and heiress of Cyrus Greengrass, and the wife of the Chosen One. Both men had made stronger wizards than him quiver in their shoes. She wouldn't allow this … this pocket-mafioso to intimidate her.

She tilted her head back and looked at him down the back of her nose. 'There's a first time for everything.'

His grip around her hand tightened, became painful, and she bit the inside of her cheeks not to flinch or utter a sound of pain.

'Ginny plays to win. Obstacles are a challenge to her, not to mention that most obstacles are … disposable.'

Her knees got weak, and only her strict upbringing prevented her from stumbling. Tiny beads of sweat pooled on her upper lip. Had he just threatened to kill her?

The music came to an end. He stepped back and raised her hand to his mouth in the formal gesture of a polite thanks. 'It would be a shame about a beautiful woman like you, wouldn't it?' He let go of her hand, turned around, and slipped through the couples on the dancefloor like an eel.

She stared after him; her heart raced, and she trembled all over her body.

'Daphne? Are you alright?'

Ron's arm slid around her waist, and she leaned against him, thankful for the support he offered.

The couples around them left the dancefloor, and many curious glances were cast her way.

She straightened; it wouldn't do to give the rumour mills more fodder.

'Yes, or at least I'll be in another minute. I just had a rather surreal conversation.'

Ron's mouth became grim. 'I imagine,' he said. His eyes searched the dancefloor.

She knew for whom he was looking, she'd begun searching for them the moment the music had ended.

There they were, on the other side of the dancefloor. Harry had offered his arm to the Weaselette, as it was custom, and she clung to his side while he was talking to Katie and Oliver Wood. Even from across the dancefloor it was obvious that the damned woman was tugging on his arm and urging him to end the conversation.

There was no doubt about the final destination the Weaselette had on her mind, either: from the arcades at the other side of the dancefloor French doors led into an enchanted garden with delightful paths and grottos, made for couples to lose themselves in them.

Daphne's eyes stung. She and Harry had made liberal use of these paths when they attended festivities at the _Silver Phoenix Resort_ in the past years; she had very fond memories of one hidden grotto in particular. Why did he give in to the demands of the Weaselette? They'd been through so much together; even though he didn't love her, he owed her some respect because of that.

Heat shot in her face. She raised her chin and clenched her fists. He'd find out what she thought of his outrageous behaviour the moment she got him alone. And the Weaselette better made sure not to be caught alone by her. Right now, she'd love to put her hands around the bitch's creamy neck and squeeze until the life left her eyes.

The music began to play once again. She cast another look at the couple across the dancefloor. She'd love to confront them here and now, for once she was mad enough at them not to care they were still in public. However, the repercussions could be severe … She bit her lips; her primal feelings of betrayal and anger at war with her upbringing.

The decision was taken out of her hands. Neville snug up behind the Weaselette, slung his arms around her, and spun her onto the dancefloor. She let out a small shriek that was drowned out by the music and the talk and laughter of the ball guests, and tried to resist his pull, but he was stronger and swept her into an exuberant twirl while her eyes shot daggers at him.

Ron sniggered. 'Good boy, Neville.' He pulled her into a small hug and looked down at her. 'I never would've thought I had to say this, Daphne, but I'm ashamed of the behaviour of my sister. Please, accept my apologies on behalf of the Weasley family.'

She raised on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss on his cheek. 'Thank you, Ron. It's alright.'

'No, it isn't. My best mate is an idiot, and I'm going to tell him that when I next see him.' His ear lobes were an alarming shade of red.

She put a hand on his arm. 'That's sweet of you, Ron, but please don't. Harry and I will sort this out between us.'

Ron huffed at that. 'Well, if you say so. Anything for you, Daph.' He pulled his arm from her waist and offered it to her. 'Come on, let's find Hermione and the rest of the gang. She told me to meet her at the bar before she sent me over to help you.'

In spite of everything, Daphne had to smile. That was so typical Hermione: she was fiercely loyal to her friends.

On Ron's arm she ambled over to the bar. As soon as they reached the spot where their friends stood around two high bar tables, Hermione, Fleur and Lisa pulled her in a short group hug.

Comforted by the support of her friends, she gave them a tremulous smile.

Bill pressed a glass of elven champagne into her hand. 'Here, you look as if you need it.' His ear lobes were as red as Ron's, and he had his mouth set in a taut line. 'Just let me get my hands on my little sister, and -'

She never found out what he was going to say. Strong arms wrapped around her from behind, and the scent of a familiar cologne, mixed with leather and broomwax, reached her nostrils.

'I'm so very sorry, darling,' Harry whispered into her ear.

She turned her head around to look into his face. His eyes were clouded, like they'd been on that Christmas Day when she'd found him at the edge of the grove behind _The Burrow_ after his talk to the Weaselette. Like on that fateful day, tingles went through her body where he touched her. This time, however, a flood of warmth followed that took her breath away and quenched her anger before it had time to rise.

He left her no time to dwell on that unexpected feeling, closed the gap between them and kissed her. It was a hard kiss, a possessive kiss. Was it reassurance for her? Or was that kiss meant for himself, a reminder where he belonged to?

He raised his head and gave her a miserable look. 'Walk with me in the garden?'

She nodded, and he took the glass out of her hand, put it onto the next bar table, and put his arm around her waist to lead her into the direction of the French doors to the garden. The concerned looks of their friends followed them.

They had not even walked half the distance to the French doors when the movement of something red over gold caught Daphne's attention. She suppressed a groan. The Weaselette was, once again, obviously on her way to attempt to intercept Harry and her, if her determined look into their direction was anything to go by.

The pressure of Harry's arm around her waist became more pronounced, as if he wanted to put as much distance as possible between them and the Weaselette. The wall of ball guests closed and obscured the woman from their sight, and vice versa. Harry let out a deep breath.

They reached the French doors. Harry held one door open for her. Dusk was falling, and all over the garden Fairy Lights lit up and added to the romantic feel of the scenery. Harry left her no time to admire the beautiful sight. As soon as they were both outside, he grabbed her hand. 'Let's hurry.'

He pulled her with him, behind a high hedgerow of wild roses that obscured them from the ballroom, and down the path that led to the grotto they had inspected thoroughly in previous years.

Her high heels made it impossible to keep up with him. 'Slow down, Harry, or I'll twist my ankle!'

He stopped in his tracks, a mischievous glint in his eye. 'We can't have that, can we?' The next moment he swept her on his arms and carried her down the path.

'Harry!' She threw her arms around his neck to steady herself. A snort escaped her, in spite of her irritation about his behaviour on the dancefloor. 'You're such a prat sometimes.'

They had reached the entrance to the familiar grotto. He looked down at her, an unfathomable expression in his eyes. 'Yeah, but I'm your prat, never forget that.' He bent his head and kissed her hard.

Any thought of her former irritation flew right out of her head. Her heart hammered in her chest. What did he mean by that? When he finally raised his head, the world spun around her. Her tingling lips still parted, she looked into his fascinating eyes, the only steady thing in her world.

He carried her over the threshold and lowered her to her feet. His eyes became sober. 'We have to talk,' he said and took both of her hands in his.

'That we have.' She drew a deep breath to center herself. She couldn't allow her anger about the public humiliation get the better of her. Harry's behaviour made clear he felt as miserable about the incident as she did. Had it been another attempt of the Weaselette to manipulate them? Most likely.

'What was that all about, Harry? Why did you have to humiliate me in front of almost everyone who counts in the wizarding world?'

His hands tightened around hers in an almost painful grip. 'Merlin, Daph, do you think I did that _on purpose_?' He let go of her hands and ran a nervous hand through his hair.

Daphne gave him a sharp look. That gesture told more than anything of his agitation. Harry had worked hard on his body language and trained himself not to fall back on the many, involuntary gestures that betray agitation or discomfort until it had become second nature to him to control himself.

She stepped closer and put her hand on his arm. 'What happened, Harry? Why did you act that way?'

He sat down on the inbuilt bench that led around the wall of the grotto and pulled her on his lap. His arms encircled her. Again, a wave of warmth flooded her system.

'I'd just finished my dance with Hermione. Ron came up to claim her, and I was looking for you. The music set in, and I still hadn't found you. Next thing I know is Ginny and her escort dancing by my side. Before I know what's going on, she lets go of him and throws her arms around my neck, stating for everyone around us to hear that this is her dance I promised to her.'

Daphne's stomach lurched. That was worse than she'd thought.

Harry huffed. 'I should have put an end to that then and there, and told her where to shove her dance. But … You know Molly, and Ginny is very much like her mother, and I didnt want her to cause a scene tonight, so I played along against my better judgement.'

He heaved a big sigh. 'Had I known she behaved like that, I wouldn't have come within twenty yards of her. I ran into her regularly whenever I was in the U.S.A.. She never made a move on me. We'd sometimes have dinner together, though not each time, exchange a few words about mutual friends, and then go our way. Tonight, however ... well, I never saw that coming. You can't imagine how relieved I was when Neville dragged her on the dancefloor and I could slip away without causing a scene. Skeeter was lurking in the background, so it's already bad enough as it is.'

Daphne gave him a long look. He was genuinely upset, she knew him well enough to know that. And yet, there were still some points he'd glossed over …

'Why did you never tell me you met her in New York?'

Harry's cheeks pinked, and he looked as adorable and sheepish as a five-year-old caught with his hand in the biscuit tin. Damn him, she wouldn't be able to keep up her stern demeanour much longer if he looked like that.

'It wasn't such a big deal. When I first met her, I wanted to tell you immediately, but then this or that happened, and I forgot about it until it was too late. Later, I didn't know how to bring it up, and I didn't want to worry you, either.'

'Harry, you idiot! Did it never occur to you that I'd be far easier to manipulate the less I knew? You, of all people, should know that. You should also know by now that you can talk to me about anything. Remember, only together we're strong.'

Should she tell him she knew about his meetings with the Weaselette because of the pictures the bitch had sent her each time afterwards? She took another look at her husband: his eyes were still dark with worry, and the taut lines around his mouth betrayed his anger about the Weaselette's actions.

No, she'd better keep her mouth shut about the manipulations of the Weaselette, at least for tonight. As angry as Harry was, he'd most likely start a fight with the bitch the next time he saw her. Well, that surely wouldn't cause her any sleepless nights, but at the ball with many prying eyes and Skeeter lurking in the background was the worst place for something like that.

Harry let out a deep sigh. 'I've messed up big time, haven't I?'

She rolled her eyes at him. 'Well, I'm not happy about the way you ditched me in favour of your ex-girlfriend. Even if you didn't mean to, that's how it looks to the public, and Merlin knows what Skeeter will make out of that incident. However, there's no need to make a mountain out of a molehill, either. If we act normally, people will forget about it soon enough.'

He took a deep breath and tilted her chin up with his hand. Emerald eyes met blue. 'So, we're good?'

As if she ever could resist him when he looked at her like that. She slid her arms around him, pulled him closer, and relaxed against his chest. 'Yes, we're good. Though, that doesn't mean that I won't make you grovel for some time.'

Harry chuckled. 'Is that so? Well then, I promise to take my punishment like a man. I trust you not to be too hard on me.'

'I thought something along the lines of a weekend somewhere far away from everything, only the two of us.'

'That sounds far more like a reward to me.' He exhaled and leaned his forehead against her own.

She ran her hand through the silky hair at the nape of his neck, and once again that wonderful warmth permeated her.

They sat like that a long time, until Harry raised his head. 'I'm afraid we have to go back to the ballroom.' He pushed a strand of hair out of her face.

She made a face to that, reluctant to give up on their quality time, and slid from his lap. He was right, though. By now, the rumour mill would be working extra shifts. Their disappearance from the ballroom would have led to all kinds of speculations. They had to go back, present an united front to the world, and show them this incident wasn't more than a small bump in the road of the perfect Potter marriage.

Arm in arm they ambled back to the ballroom through the darkness of the balmy spring night. By now, the tastefully illuminated garden was frequented by a lot of couples who wanted to escape the hot and stifling air of the ballroom, or just enjoy a romantic walk, and a lot of curious glances were cast their way. She sighed and snuggled closer to her husband, smiling contentedly as Harry drew her closer. It would probably be much worse as soon as they were back in the ballroom.

Harry opened the door to the ballroom for her, his other arm still around her waist. He bent down to her. 'I am relying on you acting as my bodyguard for the rest of the night and not leaving my side.'

She swirled her head around; his emerald eyes gave her a conspiratorial wink, and laughter bubbled up in her.

They'd moved no more than a couple of feet into the ballroom, when Daphne caught a glimpse of a woman in a striking golden ball gown making her way to them. The Weaselette, again. She came to a halt in front of them. The ball guests around them stopped talking mid-sentence; all eyes were on the triangle marked by Harry, the Weaselette, and her.

Her stomach lurched once again. She suppressed a groan. This was just great. She hadn't been feeling well all day long, the ball had been trying so far, to say the least: the last thing she needed was the Waselette and her stupid games drawing the attention of the insatiable curious magical population on them.

The Weaselette gave her a scorching look, then turned her eyes on Harry. The next second she was all smiling sweetness. It was enough to make Daphne want to gag. Had Harry caught that look? Hopefully.

'Can we talk, Harry?'

Harry's body went tense. Daphne tightened her hold around him, and a wave of warmth surged through her body.

'Not tonight,' Harry said, his voice clipped. She didn't need to look into his face to know that he'd put on his inscrutable public mask.

The Weaselette opened her mouth as if to contradict.

Harry raised his free hand, his other arm still secure around Daphne's waist. 'Leave it alone, Ginny. As I see it, you already have caused enough trouble tonight, claiming a dance that wasn't yours in the first place.' With that, he pushed her forward, past the Weaselette, towards the bar where their friends were waiting and looking at the encounter with various degrees of worry and concern on their faces.

Murmurs and whispers flared up all around them. Daphne held herself upright and schooled her face into a bland mask. She hated to be made the object of gossip. Didn't that damned woman know this was even worse for Harry? She'd been his girlfriend, for Morgana's sake, she had to know how much he hated this.

Another scorching look hit her as she passed the Weaselette, secure in Harry's arm.

'You're going to pay for that,' the bitch murmured, low enough for no-one but her to hear.

Daphne's stomach turned into a ball of ice at the hate-filled words, and her breath hitched. There was no doubt the bitch meant business.

She let out a breath when they reached the calm haven of their friends. Thanks Morgana, they acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. They all knew Harry and her well enough to know how much they hated public attention, and would do anything to protect them from that.

Bill handed her a fresh glass of elven champagne. She pretended to sip it; the smell of the alcohol still made her stomach squirm. No surprise there; what had been supposed to be a night of fun with their friends had been nothing but a nightmare up till now. She pushed the glass of champagne aside when Bill wasn't looking and helped herself to a glass of sparkling water.

Of course, Harry noticed. He hadn't taken his arm away from her, and now pulled her closer. 'Are you still feeling nauseous? Shall we call it a day and return home?' he whispered in her ear.

His offer was tempting. However, it was still too soon after their encounter with the Weaselette. Taking their leave now would cause another round of gossip she wanted to avoid. She turned her head and gave him a kiss on the cheek. 'Don't worry, honey, I'm alright.'

She was anything but that, however, Harry needn't to know everything. On the plus side Ron, Morgana bless him, drew Harry into another Auror-related conversation.

'You'll probably won't like it, mate, but today I got the news that Lucius Malfoy is going to be released from Azkaban within the next few weeks. He has served each single day of his ten years.'

Harry shrugged, picked up a glass of champagne from a tablet an elf offered to him, and took a sip. 'Well, that can't be helped, can it.'

Ron frowned. 'I wish you'd consider personal security. I have a bad feeling about this.'

'Ron, you've had a bad feeling for the last five years,' Harry said with a grin. He took another sip of champagne. 'You know Daphne's and my thoughts on your suspicion against Malfoy.'

Bill and Justin, who were listening into the conversation, chuckled.

Ron sighed, rolled his eyes, but knew when it was time to change the topic. Within the next minute, the four young men were deep into a discussion of the last Quidditch game between Puddlemere United and the Tutshill Tornados.

The night went on. Their group altered between the dancefloor and taking refreshments at the bar. The Weaselette kept her distance, thank Morgana for small blessings. Or maybe she had already left, Daphne hadn't seen her for quite some time, and she relaxed and began to enjoy the ball. The fact that Harry never left her side had a lot to do with that.

Quite a while after midnight the four young witches decided it was about time to powder their noses. Being young women and no different to other women, they of course made the trek to the powder room together.

Daphne was in the lead. She put her hand on the handle of the door, when the door was pushed open from inside.

'Oh, sorry,' she said, and stepped back to let two women out of the room.

Her eyes fell on red hair and a striking golden dress, and her stomach lurched. The Weaselette, Morgana damn her bad luck.

The moment the woman recognised her, her polite expression turned into a mask of hate. 'You!' she hissed.

Behind Daphne, Fleur, Hermione and Lisa gasped.

Molly Weasley, one step behind her daughter, blanched. She took the Weaselette by her elbow and tried to pull her away, but the woman didn't budge.

Daphne drew a deep breath to center herself, and schooled her face into a bland mask.

Not a moment too soon; the Weaselette stepped closer to Daphne until she invaded her personal space. 'I warned you to stay away from what isn't yours, Greengrass.'

Daphne rolled her eyes, she didn't even bother to hide that from the Weaselette. 'You're delusional, Weasley. You are and never were in the position to keep me away from _my husband._ Stop your pathetic act and get real. Harry hasn't been yours anymore since the day he ended it with you. Do you really think your bitching back at _The Burrow_ impressed me at all?'

Should she tell the Weaselette what had happened between Harry and her after their encounter in the kitchen of _The Burrow_? No, that was too personal, she wouldn't sully one of the happiest moments of her life by sharing it with the bitch.

However, this had gone on for too long. It was about time to put the bitch into her place.

She grabbed the Weaselette by the arms; her long fingernails dug deep into the soft flesh of her upper arms. The Weaselette squirmed and let out a soft cry of pain, but she didn't let go. Merlin may help her that she wouldn't drag her fingernails through the bitch's face next. Her mouth curved into a smirk at the discomfort of the woman.

Molly Weasley made a step forward to help her daughter, but Daphne stopped her right in her tracks with a single look.

She leaned forward, until she was nose to nose with the Weaselette. 'Listen to me, you piece of trash, and listen good: keep your hands off my husband, or Merlin be my witness, it'll be the last thing you do.'

She shoved the Weaselette back, into her mother, not caring for the deep scratches that marred her upper arms, or the look of horror on her face, turned around, and walked away.

 _t.b.c._


	67. Chapter 64

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** As always, kudos to my fantastic editor Shygui. You are the best!

With this chapter I reached the 50% mark of my outlined scenes. However, that doesn't mean I'll end around 128 chapters. I think I'll end somewhere around hundred chapters.

Chapters **64** and **65** , 15/11/18

* * *

 **64**

 _ **The Silver Phoenix Resort, May 8th 2008**_

Who would've thought the celebration of the blackest day in Pureblood history could be this entertaining? He chuckled to himself, leaned back in his chair and listened with half an ear to his date and her friends gossip about how Potter had danced with his former girlfriend and left his wife standing there on display for the vultures to pick over. He had to agree, it had been amusing.

He hadn't had any desire to attend to the festivities that marked the tenth anniversary of Father's death. However, when the opportunity had presented itself in form of Joane, one of the secretaries at Crystal Fairy's who was a Veteran of the Battle of Hogwarts, he hadn't turned it down. She had just broken up with her boyfriend and was in dire need of a date for the ball. It didn't matter that she'd helped suppressing their valiant cause.

He had learned to think about the big picture, and he'd use every chance he got to get near to the Potters and find out more about their lives. After all, you'd never knew when the opportunity for the next attack would present itself, even though those two were worse than the proverbial cat with the nine lives. So far, they'd managed to escape his death traps again and again.

Joane touched his arm with her hand. 'They're coming back.'

He turned his head and looked toward the doors that led into the garden.

Potter opened the door for the whore, one arm around her waist. He bent down and said something into her ear, which made her spin around her head, gape at him, and burst out laughing.

'Now, that's a surprise,' Joane said. 'The way he ditched her in favour for his ex during the couples dance, I would've expected her to be still mad at him.'

'I told you it was a misunderstanding,' her friend said across the table. 'Harry isn't like that.'

He took a sip of his champagne. 'You seem to know him well,' he said, and put the glass back on the table.

The blonde girl, Katie Something, shrugged to that. 'I doubt anyone beside his closest friends and family really know him.'

Her husband, a stocky, muscular man with ash-blonde, spiked hair, nodded to that. 'Harry's a very private person. I was his Quidditch captain for three years. I doubt we ever shared a private word.'

His wife laughed to that. 'That's because you had a one-track mind when it came to Quidditch while you were at school, sweetheart. I can't remember you ever talking about anything but Quidditch back then.' She leaned towards him and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Everyone at their table laughed to that.

He joined the laughter, though his hands itched to slap the blonde witch for her interference.

The dark-haired girl next to the husband of the blonde sobered. 'I can't see Harry hurting and humiliating his wife on purpose, that just isn't in him, can you, Katie?'

Katie startled at that and shook her head. 'You're right, Alicia, out of all of us on those teams, I was probably the closest to him, and I know he'd never do something to deliberately hurt someone else. It's strange.'

She gave a frown before continuing her musings 'I was his dorm-mate for six years, and played on the house team with him almost my entire time at Hogwarts. He's always been decent and polite towards the girls, that's something you can't say of all blokes in Gryffindor. Ginny on the other hand -.' Katie interrupted herself and made a face.

His mouth became dry. That was what he was looking for, inside information on Harry Potter and the people who were important to him. Know thy enemy, know their strengths and their weaknesses, and your next strike will be all the more deadly.

He quirked an eyebrow at Katie. 'Ginny Weasley, the international Quidditch star?'

'Yeah, though that surely wasn't written in the stars for her. She's -.' She interrupted herself once again and stared at the Potters. 'To what are you up to now, Ginny?'

He turned into the direction of her stare. A red-headed woman had planted herself in front of the Potters and stared them down. From his position, he couldn't see the faces of Britain's glamour couple. Their posture, however, indicated that they were presenting a united front to the world: they stood even closer than before, arms around each other.

The expression of the redhead morphed into a fake sweet smile, and she said something. It was a pity their table was too far away to understand her. Whatever it was, it didn't seem to impress the Potters: the smile faded from the face of the woman until she openly glared.

The Potters brushed past her without another glance. The woman moved as if she was going to follow them. However, a young, Italian looking man stepped in and held her back. They had a short, slightly heated conversation - at least heated on the side of the girl - until her shoulders sagged, and she allowed him to lead her away.

'Now, that was interesting,' Alicia said and drained her glass.

He turned around and motioned a nearby house elf to bring them more champagne. The alcohol most likely would loosen her tongue, and he would be able to gain more useful information.

'What do you mean by that?' he asked, and handed her a fresh glass from the tablet the house elf presented to him.

She thanked him with a silent toast, sipped, and said, 'Ginny was Harry's girlfriend during his sixth year, at least that's what I've been told. Katie, you know more about that.'

The blonde shrugged her shoulders. 'Yeah, they got together after the last Quidditch match of the year. They didn't last long, two or three weeks, perhaps. I have no idea why they broke up; I was busy with my N.E.W.T.s and didn't pay much attention to the house-gossip at that time. They did get back together for a short time after the Battle of Hogwarts, but that obviously didn't last long, either. Harry married Daphne Greengrass the summer after the war.'

'It was an old family arrangement. At least that's what was in the newspapers after their marriage,' the dark haired girl added. 'There was a lot of speculation, wondering if Harry and Ginny would continue their relationship after his marriage, but there's never been the slightest hint of Harry not being completely faithful to his wife. You just have to look at them; the way they behave towards each other it's rather obvious they are deeply in love. Besides that, Ginny left for the U.S.A. immediately after Harry's wedding, and she hasn't exactly lived like a nun since then.'

'By the way the redhead acted tonight you'd think she's still after him,' he said.

Katie and Alicia exchanged a look.

'She's always wanted The-Boy-Who-Lived. Wasn't she a co-founder of his fan club?' Alicia asked.

Katie made a face. 'Don't remind me of that. Harry hated it. For the longest time she wasn't able to do anything but blush and squeak whenever he was near.'

The two witches broke out into laughter.

He tuned them out while he sipped his champagne. An ex-girlfriend who'd had an unhealthy obsession with Potter from her childhood, and had been forced to give up on her hero because he had been contracted into an arranged marriage - he wouldn't be his father's son if he didn't use that for his own ends. It was obvious that the Weasley girl still wasn't over her obsession with the Chosen One.

For the rest of the night he alternated between watching the Potters and the redhead. The Potters were as boring as always: they stuck to their own small circle of friends, hardly drank anything - the whore even stuck to sparkling water all night long - and they were the usual, sickeningly sweet couple. After his blunder at the beginning of the ball Potter never left the side of the whore and played the devoted husband to perfection. Though, Alicia was right, the upstart really seemed to care for his whore, and his feelings were returned. You only had to look at the two to see that; it was the source of neverending gossip and sighs among the women at Crystal Fairy's, and it surely was enough to make a grown man want to gag.

Shortly after midnight the women of Potter's small circle of friends made the requisite collective trek to the powder room. He'd never understand why women always had to go in packs. However, it would be the only opportunity for Weasley to have a go at the whore without Potter watching her like a hawk, so it was most likely she'd make her move now.

He got up from the table with a small excuse to his date, and followed the women to the restrooms.

Luck was with him: the moment the whore opened the door to the restroom, Weasley came out. Her face at once morphed into a mask of hate.

'You!' she spat.

He made a small move towards the women: the whore was his to kill, he wouldn't allow Weasley to interfere with that.

A plump woman with greyish-red hair and the same chocolate brown eyes as Weasley held her back. Her mother? Well, that was beside the point right now, more interesting was the outcome of the little encounter.

He had to give it to the whore: she was a real lady. Nothing in her bland face betrayed the less than charitable feelings she had to have for the woman who was blatantly hunting for her husband. Weasley, on the other hand … Well, she might be a Pureblood, but she didn't have the breeding of one.

Weasley stepped closer to the whore. 'I warned you to stay away from what isn't yours, Greengrass.'

He almost laughed out loud. How delusional was the woman? She might have been Potter's girlfriend, but that had been ten long years ago. She was deluding herself if she thought she still meant something to him.

The whore seemed to agree. She rolled her eyes. 'You're delusional, Weasley. You aren't and never were in the position to keep me away from _my husband._ Stop your pathetic little act and get real. Harry hasn't been yours since the day he ended it with you. Do you really think your bitching back at _The Burrow_ impressed me at all?.'

The look of shock on Weasley's face was almost comical to watch. Who would've thought the whore had claws and used them? It became even better.

The whore grabbed Weasley by the arms; her long fingernails dug deep into the soft flesh of Weasley' upper arms. The woman squirmed and let out a soft cry of pain, but the whore didn't let go.

Weasley's mother made a step forward to help her daughter, but the whore stopped her right in her tracks with a single look that sent a shiver down his spine. Merlin, that woman was a force to reckon with when her anger was provoked.

The whore leaned forward, until she was nose to nose with Weasley. 'Listen to me, you piece of trash, and listen good: keep your hands off my husband, or Merlin be my witness, it'll be the last thing you do.'

She shoved Weasley back, into her mother, not caring for the deep scratches that marred the other woman's upper arms, or the look of horror on her face, turned around, and walked away.

Her friends followed her. That was interesting, Granger and the blonde half-breed were Weasley's sisters-in-law, but they seemed to care more about the feelings of the whore.

Weasley's mother repaired the damage to her daughter's arm, and they made their way back into the ballroom, albeit in a much slower pace, their heads stuck together.

He turned around and walked back to his party, deep in thought. It seemed Weasley had only a small base of support; that wasn't surprising after all the years she had spent in the U.S.A.. She'd probably be thankful for every new friend she made.

A smile spread across his handsome face. Ms Weasley didn't know it yet, but she was about to make a new friend. After all, the enemy of my enemy is my friend, or so the saying went.

 _t.b.c._


	68. Chapter 65

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Another round of applause to my fantastic editor Shygui. He's doing a fubulous job behind the scenes I can't praise enough.

Chapters **64** and **65** , 15/11/18

* * *

 **65**

 _ **The Rectory, May 9th, 2008**_

Sunlight was streaming through a slit between the thick curtains in front of their bedroom window when Daphne woke up the next morning. Still in the last vestiges of sleep, she reached out with her arm to Harry's side of the bed, groping around blindly, only to find it empty.

She scrunched up her nose. Why did he have to be such an early riser? She hated waking up alone.

She pushed the duvet away, swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and sat up. All at once, dizziness overcame her. She grunted and buried her face in the palms of her hands until the unpleasant feeling had subsided. Not again! What, by Morgana's flat chest, was wrong with her?

She raised with slow and tentative movements, hoping that the dizziness wouldn't return, and made it through her morning routine without another spell. With a relieved sigh, she closed the door to their bedroom and walked down to the breakfast room.

They had never returned to Grimmauld Place after the funeral of her parents and sister. What was meant to be a temporarily arrangement to help her overcome her loss had become permanent before she even realised it. About a month after the funeral Harry had suggested to give the house a makeover and make it their permanent residence.

If she hadn't already been madly in love with him she'd have fallen for him then: he knew how much her family had meant to her; by permanently moving into her family home, it kept fresh the strongest link she still had to them. Little things would trigger happy memories of her family, like whispered conversations with Tori in the gardens or lessons with her father in his study; as a bonus she was close to their graves and could visit whenever she needed to.

She walked into the spacious kitchen. This room had changed the most since they'd moved in. Raised in Pureblood tradition, Mother had never been a cook and had left that field to the elves. Thus the kitchen had always been a rather overlooked and old-fashioned part of the house. Harry had changed that: he had insisted on the newest Muggle equipment, and paid the Goblins to make it work with magic. Matty and her daughter had been distrustful of the modern equipment at first, but soon learned to love it. They still were in charge of the kitchen most of the time, albeit Harry took over their domain whenever he felt like it.

Today - it appeared - was one of those times. He stood at the huge stove and prepared a full English breakfast, one of her favourite dishes. However, her stomach gave an uncomfortable squirm when the smell of fried food reached her nostrils.

Harry looked up and smiled at her. 'Good morning, sleepyhead.' He turned off the heat under the skillet, walked towards her and took her in his arms.

Daphne snuggled against him. 'Morning, honey.'

He let go of her, turned her, and ushered her in the direction of the breakfast room with a soft pat on her behind. 'Your breakfast will be ready in another minute, my lady.'

She laughed, looking back at him over her shoulder. 'You're really a well trained husband. I think I'll keep you.' With a small wave at him, she walked into the adjoining breakfast room and sat down at her usual place.

They'd only made a few changes to this room: the cushions on the rattan furniture had needed a replacement, and she'd taken the opportunity to change the main colour scheme of the room from the soft tan Mother had preferred to a bold turquoise. Mother's prized orchids, however, still adorned the room, and Harry had added to the collection.

A string of plates, bowls, cups, cutlery and a steaming teapot soared through the opening to the kitchen, descended on the table in front of her in a graceful arch, and arranged itself into a perfectly set breakfast table.

Harry followed seconds later. He sat down beside her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. 'Your breakfast, Mrs Potter. Tuck in.' He grabbed for his cutlery and cut into his bangers.

Daphne took her cutlery in her hands, though much slower than Harry, and looked down on her plate. He'd made a traditional fry-up, just as she liked it. Everything was there, including the black pudding, and fried to perfection. She stared at the slices of black pudding, next to the fried mushrooms. Never had a breakfast looked less appealing to her.

Another whiff of fried food reached her nose. That was too much. Her stomach turned, and she sprang to her feet and bolted for the bathroom next to the family room. She reached it just in time, grabbed for the toilet bowl as if it was an anchor, and retched.

It was over as sudden as it had begun. She stemmed herself off the floor and turned to the sink to splash cold water in her sweaty face and rinse her mouth.

'Daphne?' Harry appeared at the open door, a frown on his face and his eyebrows creased. 'Aren't you feeling well?'

She cast a Breath Refreshing Charm on herself and turned towards him. 'I'm fine; don't worry, honey. All that champagne last night probably didn't agree with me.' She gave him a broad smile, though her stomach still rolled, ready to send her back heaving the next second.

'You don't look like it,' Harry said. He stepped towards her, took her chin in his hand, and gave her a scrutinising look. 'You're rather green in the face; that's a colour that doesn't suit you at all, darling, so don't you "I'm fine" me!' He let go of her face and pulled her into a hug. 'Please, don't fob me off, Daphne: you didn't drink any champagne last night, so that doesn't work, either. Out with it, what's wrong with you?' He leaned back and scrutinised her face, his eyes dark with worry.

She shrugged her shoulders and cuddled against him. 'I have no idea. Maybe I'm coming down with something. I've been out of sorts for a couple of days, and I'm always tired.' As if on cue, a huge yawn escaped her.

Harry put his arm around her waist and led her into the family room. 'Alright, it's nap time for you, then.' He helped her lay down on the sofa and covered her with the colourful afghan Grandmother Greengrass had crocheted some fifty years ago. 'Promise me to see a healer on Monday.'

She smiled up at him, already half asleep. 'Yes, but only because I want you to stop pestering me about it.'

'Smart girl.' He bent down and gave her a kiss on the forehead. The next second she was fast asleep.

* * *

On Harry's insistence, she spent most of the weekend resting on the sofa in the family room.

'Like a Victorian lady,' she said with a grimace.

He didn't give in. 'You're still pale and your appetite hasn't returned. If you're a good girl, I'm taking you for a stroll through the park in the afternoon. If you insist on behaving like a brat, however, I won't mind practising my Sticking Charms on you.' His wand slipped in his hand, and he twirled it between his fingers while he gave her his most innocent smile.

Daphne grumbled, but relented. In truth she was just too tired to argue with him.

She still didn't feel much better on Monday morning, although she somehow managed to hide that from Harry.

Their week started with a meeting with the head of Crystal Fairy's Department of Magical Public Relations and Advertisement and his deputy about the new advertising campaign for the magical world. The Muggle part of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products traditionally contracted female film stars and supermodels for their different advertising campaigns, a tradition grandfather Greengrass and Harry's grandfather Fleamont Potter had started after the defeat of Grindelwald.

The director had suggested to launch a similar campaign in the magical world, instead on solely relying on praising the effects of their products. Something like that had never been done before in the magical world, so it was bound to attract attention. Harry had given the director free hand in choosing the star, and today he was expected to report about his progress.

Daphne was the last to enter the conference room and slipped into her usual seat beside Harry. One look at Director McLean and his deputy, Rhys Patterson, told her they had good news: they could barely contain their smiles and fidgeted with the scrolls of parchment in front of them.

Harry smiled at the two men across the table. 'Alright, what do you have for us, gentlemen?'

A broad smile appeared on Director McLean's face. 'Well, you wanted a superstar for the next campaign, Mr Potter, and we found one, even within the designed budget.' He paused, obviously to raise the suspense.

Daphne rolled her eyes. She wasn't in the mood for male ego games today; all she wanted was getting out of here as soon as possible and hide in her office for the rest of the day so that no-one, least of all Harry, would realise how out of sorts she was.

Harry, on the other hand, seemed inclined to play along. The polite smile still on his face, he cocked an inquiring eyebrow at Director McLean. 'Who is that mysterious superstar?'

The smile on McLean's face became even broader, if that was possible.

'Ginny Weasley.'

Daphne's insides turned cold; she gasped, her hand flying to her chest. That couldn't be true, not the Weaselette again.

Director McLean regarded her with a brief look, his eyebrows drawn together. 'Are you alright, Mrs Potter?'

Patterson had tilted his head to the side and also looked at her, curiosity in his eyes.

She had to get a grip on herself; there was no way both men hadn't seen the headlines of the _Sunday Prophet._ Just as she had feared, Harry's dance with the bitch hadn't escaped Skeeter. Even worse, Skeeter had a long memory and had warmed up the long forgotten story about their surprise marriage, Harry's former relationship with the Weaselette, and her subsequent flight to the U.S.A., and of course came to the conclusion that Harry and the Weaselette were going to pick up where they'd left ten years ago.

Harry put his hand on her knee under the cover of the table and gave her a small squeeze.

Warmth permeated her, the coldness subsided, and her racing heartbeat returned to normal. She cast him a short side glance.

He sat back on his chair, as if recoiling from Director McLean and the news he brought, and had covered his mouth and chin with his other hand. Impossible to gauge his thoughts about contracting the Weaselette right now.

She took a deep breath, swallowed the vile taste of bile in her mouth, and smiled at the two men opposite of her.

'I'm fine, thanks. I admit I'm a trifle surprised about your news. That's surely a big coup for Crystal Fairy Beauty Products.'

Director McLean puffed out his chest. 'Well, Ms Weasley's agent was a tough negotiating partner. However, we came to a satisfying agreement for both sides.'

Harry lowered his hand from his face. 'I reserve my judgement if that deal is satisfying for our company until I've heard the details, Director McLean,' he said in a dry undertone.

The triumphant smirk vanished from McLean's face.

That was something Father would have said. Had Harry an idea how much he adhered to Father's style of management? It was endearing, at least to her, and a sign of how much he had valued Father as his mentor, even though he'd deny it if she ever told him. Daphne covered her amusement with a small cough.

Harry's hand, still on her knee, gave her another squeeze; he shot her a small smile and pulled his hand away.

'Well, director?'

McLean motioned with his hand to his deputy. 'Mr Patterson will fill you in about the details.'

Patterson straightened in his seat, cleared his throat and unrolled a scroll of parchment in front of him. 'Ms Weasley agreed to become the face for our new, world wide advertising campaign. Since she is probably the most high profile female Quidditch player in the world at the moment and famous all around the world because of that, we couldn't think of someone more suitable for that campaign.'

Harry nodded his consent, his face a bland mask.

Daphne grabbed for the quill in front of her and clenched her hand around it. How did he really feel about the deal with the Weaselette? It was impossible to tell, he had himself in perfect control. The business woman in her agreed that the deal was advantageous for their company; Ginny Weasley was just the kind of woman they'd had in their mind when they had planned the campaign: a young, beautiful, modern professional witch, preferably famous world wide. There were only very few witches who fit the bill. Couldn't McLean have picked one of those other witches?

The professional fee McLean had negotiated also was within the limits they had agreed on, so she had no reason to protest the contract on these grounds.

Patterson came to an end about the financial details of the contract. He and McLean were right, it _was_ advantageous for the company, even with the exceptional professional fee the Weaselette got out of it, and she'd be a fool to raise any objections against it. Furthermore, that would add fuel to the kind of gossip she wanted to avoid. And yet ...

Patterson proceeded with the details of the campaign. He gave Daphne a small nod. 'You said to orient this campaign on the advertising campaigns Crystal Fairy launches in the Muggle world. Whenever a new star is contracted, they are celebrated with a party at _The Rectory._ It's a tradition that has been introduced by the founders of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products,so Director McLean and I thought it appropriate to continue that tradition. After all, observing traditions is an integral part of the magical world. We've already prepared the invitations for a garden party on Saturday. Since you and Mr Potter rarely entertain magical folks at your home, we have no doubt the invitations will receive a huge interest.'

For the second time that day Daphne's insides turned to ice. The quill in her hand split into halves under her tightening grip.

'You must be kidding!'

Her head jerked around to Harry.

For the first time since Father had taken him under his tutelage, he had lost his countenance in a meeting. He gaped at McLean and Patterson, at a loss for words, and red spots burned on his cheekbones.

She reached out and covered his hand he had curled into a fist with hers. At once the tingles of his distress shot up her arm. She countered by trying to push calming feelings towards him.

After a long moment, Harry took a deep breath, his fist uncurled, and he interlaced his fingers with hers. He turned towards her, gave her a small smile, and then turned back to Director McLean and his deputy.

'No … Not only no, but hell no!' His voice was cold, and the glare he shot at both men made them recoil in their seats.

'I'm sure you read the _Sunday Prophet,_ gentlemen, so you know about the nonsense one Rita Skeeter spouted this time. Of course, nothing about that is true, and I've already contacted our attorneys about that matter. However, the article upset my wife, and I'm not inclined to put her in such a situation once again.'

Warmth spilled towards her through their linked hands. A bout of happy giddiness overcame her. He wanted to protect her; how sweet was that? However, her sharp Slytherin mind already pondered the pros and cons on his intended course of action.

From the economical point of view, the contract with the Weaselette was a brilliant investition. Father had raised her to put the interests of the company always before her personal comfort, so there was no way she'd go against a deal that seemed to have only advantages for Crystal Fairy Beauty Products. Harry should know that, Father's mantra was ingrained in him as well; after all he didn't protest the contract with the Weaselette per se.

Everything in her baulked at the idea of having to throw a party for the Weaselette. However, technically the party wasn't for the girl, it was for the company. More gallingly was the fact that she would potentially give the Weaselette power over them if they treated her differently than the other celebrities they had under contract. Not to mention that the party would gain the attention they wanted with only little to no effort on their part: no doubt it would be the hottest topic in tabloid papers world wide, the kind of papers beauty conscious witches read.

The "apparent" love triangle between herself, Harry and the Weaselette Skeeter had described in her article would only add fuel to those interested in the party. She suppressed a snort. Skeeter probably didn't know it, but she had provided them, and subsequently their company, with significant free publicity that would raise attention world wide, at least if you thought about it the right way. Should she write a thank you letter to the woman?

Her mind made up, she shook that ridiculous thought away, breathed in deeply, straightened in her seat, and pushed a strand of hair out of her face.

Harry looked at her from under raised eyebrows.

She pressed his hand. 'Let's not made a hasty decision, Harry, only because you're irritated about the W … Ms Weasley's behaviour at the ball, and Skeeter's article. By now you should be used to that kind of dragon dung.'

'What's your point, Daph?'

She took another deep breath and cast a Privacy Ward around them. 'Let's be pragmatic about this, alright? We both know that we probably can't get someone better suited for the campaign than the Weaselette. With that in mind, there's no reason to treat her different to any other celebrity we have under contract.'

Harry's eyebrows rose up another notch, before he frowned, and gave the problem a few seconds of thought. 'No, I guess there isn't, is there,' he said at length and returned the pressure of her hand. 'It would make her stand out from the rest. There's no need for that, right?' He took a deep breath. 'Are you sure about this, darling? I'm afraid Ginny won't see it our way and will most likely try to cause more trouble at your expense.'

Heat shot into her cheeks, and she couldn't contain the broad smile that spread over her face. Harry understood her reasoning, even agreed with her, and yet tried to protect her. Oh, she wished the Weaselette could see them now. It would surely put a damper to her plans to get Harry into her clutches.

'I am sure. I trust you, Harry.'

An emotion passed across his face, so fast she couldn't decipher it, before he gave her hand another squeeze. 'Alright, in that case … Let's do it. Although for the record, I'm not happy about it.'

'Neither am I,' she said, and cancelled the privacy charms. She turned back to Director McLean and his deputy. 'Mr Potter and I agreed to host the garden party, so please, send out the invitations. As you said, even though it is on short notice, I doubt anyone will decline. All I need is the approved guest list. Our house elves and I will make the necessary preparations.'

Director McLean and Patterson both let out huge breaths. Patterson picked up another scroll of parchment from the stack in front of him and handed it to her. 'The guest list, Mrs Potter.'

Daphne unrolled the parchment, and only the hard training she had received from Miss Ogden as well as later from Father helped her not to grimace at its length. Their house elves would be delighted about the extra work, but she wasn't looking forward to plan a party for about two-hundred people within not even a week. She rolled up the parchment and got to her feet. 'I'd better start at once. There are only a little more than four days left to get everything ready.'

As soon as she closed the door of the conference room behind her, the stress of the meating caught up with Daphne. A wave of dizziness overcame her, and her stomach roiled. Thank Morgana there was a ladies restroom next to the conference room.

She rushed to the door of the restroom and barely made it into the next stall before her stomach turned and she retched for the second time within three days. A wave of heat welled up in her, and sweat broke out all over her body; it seemed as if she'd never stop heaving.

After a felt eternity the ordeal was over. Daphne straightened, supporting herself with her hands on the walls of the stall, and flushed. Would her wobbling legs carry her to the row of sinks? Just to be sure, she waited another minute and then walked to the sinks with small, careful steps. She rinsed her mouth, cast a Breath Refreshing Charm on herself and washed her face, before she untied her ponytail, conjured a brush and made herself presentable.

She looked in the mirror over the sink to make sure she'd obliterated all traces of her bout of sickness. Her face was pale, with dark smudges under the eyes. She made a face and cast an additional Glamour Charm to get rid of the problem. What by Morgana was wrong with her? She slipped her wand back into the holster on her wrist. Harry was right, she ought to see a healer.

But not this week. She had a party to prepare.

 _t.b.c._


	69. Chapter 66

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** This chapter has been edited by the editor extraordinaire Shyguy. You are the best!

Chapter **65** only, 22/11/18

 **66**

 _ **The Rectory, May 16th, 2008**_

The day of the party arrived too quickly as far as Harry was concerned. He'd never been one to love to socialise; today's party, however, was even less appealing: he wasn't looking forward to having to play nice with Ginny. What, by Merlin soggy britches, had got into her? She had been his girlfriend for a short period ten years ago, he'd told her in what as far as he was concerned were unmistakable terms that he wasn't going to continue their relationship, and except for fleeting accidental meetings in public there had been no interaction between them ever since. And yet she'd thrown herself at him at Veterans Ball and acted as if she was his long lost love and that they were going to pick from where they left off.

Harry huffed as he grimaced at his reflection in the mirror. As always, his hair refused to lie flat or cooperate in even the most basic way. It probably didn't matter today, thank Merlin a garden party was a rather informal affair.

He'd have to talk to Ginny one of these days; he had to make her see reason, see the truth: there was no turning back for him to the couple they once had been. Why she thought he would want that was beyond his comprehension. Even Ginny must have noticed that they barely had anything in common anymore. And he'd be damned if he let her upset Daphne.

He slipped into his dark blue robes with understated silver embroidery around the hems, and walked downstairs in search of his beautiful wife.

They'd hardly seen each other over the last couple of days: he'd been busy at headquarters, while Daphne stayed at _The Rectory_ to coordinate the necessary preparations for the party. Apparently, that wasn't done with telling the elves what she wanted, but also included countless meetings with numerous tradesmen for a great many things, starting with the drinks and the flowers to renting a tent big enough for two-hundred people in case of rain.

She'd still been busy with long lists of things that had to be done hours after he returned from work, and had been short and irritable whenever he walked into their shared study they had set up in Daphne's former bedroom at _The Rectory_ , in the hopes she'd call it a day. Meanwhile, he knew when it was better not to cross her, and he had left her to her preparations until she was ready to join him in the family room late at night.

He found Daphne in the park, on a last inspection round to check on the preparations in the tent on the back lawn, and put his arms around her from behind. He couldn't help it when his gaze wandered down her body and lingered on her magnificent legs, which were on display thanks to her very fashionable and very short sleeveless dress robes of dusky pink Acromantula silk with just a hint of silver embroidery that matched his own.

'I must say that I am shocked, Mrs Potter, the old Pureblood farts will have a heart attack, but you look simply stunning.'

She laughed and gave a seductive twirl. 'I knew you'd like my new robes.' She relaxed against his body with a small sigh.

His eyes scrutinised her face. She had styled her hair into a simple French braid. Small strands of hair had been allowed to escape the braid and framed her face in a very flattering way that enhanced her glowing skin. And yet, something was off. He took another look, and a deep frown appeared between his eyebrows.

'Daphne, are you wearing a Glamour Charm?'

She sighed again and turned her head to look at him. 'I am, the last few days have been rather stressful.'

That was a diversionary tactic, if he'd ever seen one. 'Are you still feeling unwell?' Damn, that came out sharper than he'd intended.

Daphne stiffened in his arms. 'I'm alright.'

She resented his fussing; with good reason: he knew he overdid it. He couldn't help himself, ever since she'd been poisoned five years ago he worried about her whenever she showed any signs of being unwell. She'd almost been taken from him …

He dropped a kiss on the crown of her head. 'I'm sorry, darling.'

That seemed to appease her somewhat, however, he was far from being calm about the fact that she thought it necessary to hide her natural appearance. She hadn't been feeling well ever since he returned from his business trip. Had she even been to see a healer, as she had promised him a week ago? Most likely not, she was as stubborn as he was when it came to being sick, and she would've taken the preparations for the party as a ready excuse not to see a healer.

Well, he probably needed to remind her that there were two pigheaded people in this marriage - but not tonight; they had to make a good impression, tonight they had to be on the same page. Harry suppressed a grin: a temperamental Potter marital row would probably distract from the purpose of this event.

Twenty minutes later, the gardens of _The Rectory_ teemed with people. Their house elves distributed elven champagne and Pimm's among the guests, but there were also a number of bars scattered throughout the garden and on the ground floor of the house that served cocktails, butterbeer and ale, wine, pumpkin juice, a selection of Muggle soft drinks, and of course tea. After the war, it had become fashionable for hostesses to treat their guests to Muggle food, and not even the most fanatic Pureblood hostess dared to be out of touch with fashion.

Buffets with finger food, strawberries and cream, and a selection of delicious cakes were set up in the tent and the dining room of the house, and the elves had already started roasting a whole hog on the patio in front of the breakfast room. There'd also be a selection of other barbeque meats and salads for later in the evening.

Harry and Daphne mingled with their guests. The summer afternoon was sunny and warm, with only little wind. The gardens of _The Rectory_ were in full bloom, and Daphne had outdone herself with the decoration. Besides the tent there were groups of garden chairs and tables scattered in the shade of the trees that surrounded the lawn, and there also were deckchairs, beanbags and a few vintage quilts strewn on the lawn that invited the guests to sit down and have a relaxing chat with friends. Vases filled with wild roses were on the tables and colourful streamers danced from tree to tree, adding to the cheerful atmosphere.

Once the sun had set, thousands of Fairy Lights would illuminate the garden. A band played on the terrace for those who wanted to dance, with a few couples already enjoying themselves on the dancefloor.

They made sure to talk to everyone, and took extra time to talk to the huge contingent of international press whose members Director McLean had invited. After all, this was a promotion party. The who's who of Britain's magical society that had been invited were only the backing artists for Ginny's unveiling as the new face of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products later that night. Her identity had been kept a secret so far, she'd been announced into the party as a surprise celebrity.

The downside was, the presence of the press meant they had also to deal with Skeeter. It didn't take long for her to make her move. They should've known she wasn't interested in talking about Crystal Fairy Beauty Products, but still focussed on the events of the night of the Veterans Ball.

'Mrs Potter, Harry, our readers will be delighted to know you managed to overcome the … disagreement you had on Veterans Ball.' Skeeter's eyes shot back and forth between Harry and Daphne behind her bejewelled spectacles like the eyes of an insect, an eerie reminder to Harry of her animagus form, and came to rest on their entwined hands.

Daphne let out a small laugh. 'Rita, once again you seem to know more than we do. I don't know about a disagreement on Veterans Ball.' She squeezed his hand as if in warning.

It wasn't necessary, by now he'd learned to control his features in public, though he still didn't have Daphne's skill: her laughter had sounded genuine, and the smile on her face was sincere. There was a reason why the Sorting Hat had put her into Slytherin. Well, since his little snake seemed to handle the poisonous beetle much better than he could ever hope for, he'd better keep silent and enjoy the show.

Skeeter's pencilled eyebrows went up at least one inch, and she scrunched her warning-sign-red mouth into an ironic grimace of disbelief. 'Now, Mrs Potter, there's no need to sugarcoat things for my benefit. We all saw how you left the ballroom after Harry's scandalous dance with his girlfriend. There's no doubt you had words after that.'

'Ex-girlfriend,' Daphne said. She slid her arm around Harry's waist and snuggled against him.

That was his cue: he also put his arm around her waist, drawing her closer to him.

'Why in the world do you think I was mad at my husband because he was nice enough to welcome back an old family friend?' Daphne's voice was full of harmless astonishment. She shot Skeeter another smile. 'Poor Ginny, the evening must have been dreadful for her: she was away for so long and has lost touch with everyone.'

Skeeter opened her mouth, no doubt to utter her disbelief at Daphne's statement.

Harry suppressed a snort. Skeeter was no match for Daphne in full Pureblood distraction mode; she'd been groomed from the cradle always to present an intact façade in public and never to let slip private problems.

Daphne turned slightly in his arm and put her head against his shoulder, while her other arm also snaked around his waist and pulled him closer to her. 'And for our disappearing … ' She giggled, raised her head, and blew him a small kiss before she turned back to Skeeter. 'Well, you know how delightful the gardens at the Silver Phoenix Resort are, Rita. My husband and I have very fond memories of one grotto in particular, and we left the ballroom to find out if it was still as secluded and romantic as we remembered.' She tilted her head back and gave him a sultry look that seemed to raise the temperature of the warm May afternoon a few degrees.

The invitation in her eyes was unmistakable, so he bent down and kissed her, full of admiration for her acting skills, drawing the kiss out waiting for Daphne to break it, trusting her to know how far they could push this. She'd told the truth about their whereabouts, but she'd also diffused the fact that she'd been royally pissed at him when he took her to the grotto to talk.

He was still thanking Merlin and all other deities that were that she'd let him off the hook that easily. Damn Ginny and her shenanigans; she was still a sensitive topic between Daphne and him, and her meddling could have caused a serious fight between them, if Daphne hadn't been that sensible about the awkward situation.

Skeeter cleared her throat uncomfortably, but Daphne's lips lingered on his a moment longer as Rita started talking anyway. 'So, you want me to believe you left the party just to make out like hormonal teenagers?' She rolled her eyes at them. 'For Merlin's sake, you're married for almost ten years!'

'Oh, but some things just get better with age,' Harry said with a small chuckle. He looked down at his wife. 'Don't you think so, darling?'

'Absolutely,' Daphne said, her voice husky.

Skeeter huffed and stepped closer. 'You don't have to put on an act for my benefit, Harry. Everybody knows-'

He never found out what everybody knew. Rhys Patterson, Merlin bless him, chose that moment to remind him that he was expected on the terrace for his official opening speech and the presentation of the new face of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products.

Daphne shot Skeeter another blinding smile. 'Excuse us, Rita, we're needed elsewhere.'

Their arms still wrapped around each other, Harry and Daphne followed Patterson to the terrace. Patterson gave a small nod to the band, and they played a fanfare.

With an inward grimace, Harry pointed his wand at his throat. 'Sonorus.' He hated to talk in public, but this was one of the occasions where he couldn't back out. 'Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,' he greeted the many upturned faces on the lawn. Thankfully, Director McLean had provided him with the speech for this event, and he had memorised it. Even better, the speech was short and to the point, and he soon came to the conclusion.

'Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado I'm honoured to present to you the new face of Crystal Fairy Beauty for the magical world … GINNY WEASLEY!'

He stepped aside; the door of the house opened and Ginny walked onto the terrace, resplendent in low-cut robes of emerald Acromantula silk with lavish gold embroidery all over. The robes clung tight to her athletic figure, and her red mane took on a life of its own in the last rays of the sinking sun.

Harry joined the enthusiastic applause and exchanged a smirk with Daphne across the terrace. As much as he hated what it was doing to his wife, there was no doubt that contracting Ginny was a good move for the company.

Small hands on his shoulders pulled him down to a pair of soft lips that kissed both of his cheeks, and lingered just a tad too long with each kiss. A familiar, flowery scent reached his nostrils.

He stiffened. Ginny! Damn, she'd caught him unawares.

'Thank you for the warm welcome, Harry, dear,' she said, her voice also magically amplified. 'I'm honoured to represent a company as old and important for the magical world as Crystal Fairy Beauty Products.'

Under the applause of the onlookers she took his arm and obviously had no intention of letting it go any time soon. His jaw set in a taut line, Harry cast a surreptitious look at his wife.

She smiled and clapped her hands - what else could she do in this situation?

Their eyes met, and she responded to his silent plea for help with a slight grimace that could be taken for a smile with some goodwill, and an imperceptible nod.

Harry suppressed a sigh. Obviously she wanted him to get on with the programme and introduce Ginny to the important guests of the party and the reporters of influential fashion magazines. This would have been McLean's job, but Ginny had thwarted their plans by hogging him. He gritted his teeth. He'd love to give Ginny a piece of his mind, but right now was neither the time nor the place - as she well knew, if her smug smile was anything to go by.

They walked down the steps that led to the garden to mingle with the other party guests.

'What game are you playing, Ginny?' he asked under the cover of the continued applause and the excited chatter of the guests.

She gave him a seductive smile from under her eyelashes. 'I've come home, Harry. Don't you think it's about time you admit to yourself that you've been unhappy without me?'

His breath caught, he coughed and gave her a hard stare. She was joking, wasn't she?

The smile around her lips became even brighter, and she leaned against him.

Merlin help him, she was serious. His self control that had become legend among the employees of Crystal Fairy's threatened to desert him, and he barely prevented himself from yelling at her. Aloud he said, 'You're delusional, Ginny. I'm happily married.'

Ginny let out a soft laugh. Had her laughter always been this infuriating? She squeezed his arm in a way that was much too intimate. 'You don't have to play make believe with me, Harry.'

They reached the first guests, and he was prevented from a reply that was anything but diplomatic or even polite, and would have set off Ginny's infamous temper.

It had become second nature to him to keep a bland face and respond to the demands of the company he was in, so he pulled off the necessary introductions without letting on anything about his anger and confusion, while he waited for the right moment to get rid of Ginny's arm and excuse himself from her unwanted company.

The moment never came. They had made their rounds among the guests and the reporters. Ginny had performed her duty without a flaw, he had to give her that. He let his eyes swerve around the crowd of chatting and laughing party guests. Where was Daphne? Didn't she know he needed her help?

Ginny tried to melt against him, and he made a step to the side to get some space. He looked once again for his wife. She didn't seem to be in the garden, so she was probably in the house or in the patio next to the breakfast room to make sure everything was alright. He manoeuvred Ginny towards the house. With Ginny on his arm, he circled the reception rooms on the ground floor: the dining room, the drawing room, the smaller formal sitting room, and the conservatory that connected the formal sitting room and the drawing room at the side of the house. However, there was no sign of Daphne.

'I had no idea the house is this big,' Ginny said.

Harry gave a noncommittal grunt. They were back in the hallway, and he walked Ginny towards the entrance of the house, to look for his wife in the patio.

Ginny pushed a strand of her hair out of her face. 'Why did you choose this house for your residence and not one of the Potter houses?'

His head jerked around to her; it was a valid question he supposed, albeit not one he'd ever given much thought to. 'It just happened this way. Daphne loves this house; she grew up here, you know, and we lived in the dowager house for the first five years of our marriage, so I've become somewhat attached to the property, too. When Daphne's family was killed by that manipulated Portkey -'

He broke off; even after more than two years he remembered the grief that had consumed both of them, but especially Daphne, as if it had been just yesterday. Staying at _The Rectory_ and making the house their home had been a natural choice, hell, it probably wasn't even a choice, there was just no need to choose differently: it gave both of them the connection to the family they had lost.

Ginny, however, wouldn't know that. She'd left the country and hadn't been a part of his and Daphne's lives like her older brothers and their wives. Neither Ron nor Bill would have asked that question: they knew what they'd been through. On the contrary, all of their friends had been understanding about their move into _The Rectory._

Ginny made a face at his answer. 'I don't think you should have given into the whim of your wife, Harry. It is afterall custom that the wife follows the husband into his home, and the Potter residence is bigger and more impressive than this house.'

Harry gritted his teeth. Did she believe the nonsense she spouted, or was it just her way to say something mean about Daphne?

She looked up at him, a sultry smile on her lips. 'Your loss is my gain. Do you know I rented the Potter residence on the other side of this village from you? I signed the contract at Gringotts a couple of days ago.'

A jolt went through him. Why had she done that? Was it another of her sick games? Of course he had known his grandfather Fleamont Potter had bought a manor house close to _The Rectory_ ; after all, he and Daphne's grandfather had been best friends. He and Daphne had visited the house once in the early years of their marriage and decided it was much too big and austintatious for their taste. _The Rectory_ was a small and cosy family home, compared to the grandeur of _Stinchcombe Hall_ , with its almost fifty feet long, gilded drawing room and Merlin only knew how many more reception rooms on the ground floor, and its expansive grounds. Though, it had its uses; they'd held a couple of large and formal receptions there.

He pursed his lips in a wry smile. It seemed that the rumours regarding Ginny's numerous advantageous divorce agreements hadn't been exaggerated: you had to be extremely well off to pay the rent he demanded for _Stinchcombe Hall_.

They had reached the entrance as they talked, and now walked through the pinewood arch to the patio. An appetising smell of barbecued meat greeted them, and Harry's stomach gave an appreciative growl. Most guests seemed already to have stopped by for their dinner, if the somewhat decimated remains of the barbecued hog were anything to go by, but there was still more than enough left. Matty's daughter was just preparing one of the barbecue grills with fresh coal, and a couple of guests still lingered around the high bar tables Daphne had put up for eating between the buffet and the grills

He finally discovered his wife at one of those tables. She seemed to be in an animated chat with Director McLean, Patterson, Cadwallader and Williams from Crystal Fairy. The latter two were here on Director McLean's suggestion; he'd thought it necessary to have the Potion specialists at hand to answer any question the international press might have about their current line of products.

Hermione should have been there, too, but she was on a long-scheduled trip to the U.S.A. to check the quality of their production over there. Pince had left the company a month after Cyrus' death, not missed by anyone - least of all Harry and Daphne. His deputy Abbott had followed him into the director of the department chair.

However, Abbott had told them of his decision to retire at the end of the year a couple of weeks ago. They hadn't promoted a deputy from the incumbents instead splitting the duties across Hermione, Pyke, Cadwallader and Williams. He and Daphne had agreed that on performance Hermione was the most natural choice for his successor. Little did their friend know that this trip was the test Daphne had come up with to gauge Hermione's administrative skills, though neither she nor Harry doubted that Hermione would excel at it.

Pince, Abbott and Pyke were also there, they stood at a table in the corner of the patio, in an animated talk with another wizard who had his back turned to Harry. He looked somewhat familiar, though Harry couldn't come up with a name right now.

At another table stood Ginny's agent, a glass of Muggle ale in his hand, whilst he chatted with a few members of the magical high society they'd had to invite to this event to give the party an air of distinction.

Harry recognised Theodore Nott, and the bloke who had been Fleur's date to the Yule Ball, Davis. Next to them were Draco Malfoy with his wife Sophie, neé Roper, and Cormac McLaggen with the ever-simpering Pansy. They all belonged to the kind of people he used to give a wide berth, if possible. However, his position in magical society made that impossible, so he schooled his face to a bland mask and acknowledged the party with a small nod.

Of course, Ginny tried to drag him over to her agent. However, he'd had enough of her, and ignored her efforts. Instead, he pulled her with him, over to where Daphne stood.

She had her back turned to him and didn't notice his approach. Matty called something to her; she pushed herself from the high bar table she was leaning against, and walked over to the barbecue area where Matty and her daughter worked.

She'd just reached Matty, when Mipsy poured a clear liquid over the coals and ignited them with a snap of her fingers.

An enormous jet of flame soared up. The two elves popped away just in time before they were consumed by the flame.

Daphne, however, stood frozen. Time seemed to slow down as the huge flame raced towards her and threatened to burn her to a crisp.

The next second, something heavy crashed into Harry at high speed. He was knocked into Ginny, and they went down in a heap of arms and legs. Harry twisted around to lessen the fall of the bundle of blonde hair and dusty pink Acromantula silk that had bowled him over, and tightened his arms around it to prevent it from more harm.

'Oof!' The wind was knocked out of him when he hit the ground. The back of his head connected with the flagstones of the patio, and for a few seconds all he could see were stars dancing in front of his eyes.

Beside him, Ginny let out a loud scream that turned into a somehow theatrical sounding whimper.

He didn't pay her any heed. His attention was solely on his wife in his arms. She looked even paler than she had on the day of the Veterans Ball, and her unfocussed, glazed eyes betrayed the shock she'd just suffered. She struggled in his arms, and he held her tight. 'Easy there, darling. Are you alright?'

She relaxed at once at the sound of his voice. 'I … I don't know. I think I am.'

'Stay put,' he told her and rolled himself away from below her, while lowering her to the ground. He crouched before her and let his gaze and his hands wander over her body. She was right, she seemed to have escaped the flame without even a scorched hair. A huge breath escaped his mouth.

The two house elves popped back. At the sight of their mistress on the ground they both cried out and banged their heads against the edge of the iron barbecue grill.

'Matty, Mipsy, stop that,' Harry shouted. He hated to be curt with their elves, however, right now he had more important things on his mind. 'It seems you escaped the flame without a scratch,' he said to Daphne.

Ginny's whimper intensified. 'Haaarry!'

The sound got on his nerves; she wasn't hurt, as far as he could tell, only her pride had suffered. She should know that his first priority was with his wife, who had been in severe danger only seconds ago. He shot her an annoyed glance, before his attention immediately switched back to Daphne.

Ginny's whimper turned into a loud and annoying wail. She tugged at his arm, apparently wanting him to take care of her. He shrugged her off; he had more important things to do right now.

'Do you think you can get up?' he asked his wife.

Daphne propped herself up on her elbows. 'Yes … I think that should work.' She tried to scramble to her feet, but he held her back.

'Easy, not so fast, darling, let me help you.'

With his help, she slowly got to her feet. As soon as she straightened, she slumped against him.

'Daphne!' Harry still had his arms around her and caught her fall.

She leaned against him and turned her head up to him. 'I'm sorry, honey, everything became black for a moment.'

Harry's stomach tied itself into a hard knot. What, by Merlin, was wrong with his wife? It wasn't like her to faint like some damsel in distress. 'I'd better get you to St. Mungo's for a check-up. I really don't like that you fainted on me.'

Daphne stiffened in his arms. 'I didn't faint, I just was dizzy after the fright I've had. Besides, we can't leave our party, Harry.' Her mouth settled into a stubborn line at her last words.

He let out a deep sigh. There was no reasoning with her when she dug her heels in and looked like this. 'Alright, you'll have it your way. But this is non negotiable, you'll stay by my side for the remainder of the party, and you're going to see a healer on Monday, even if I'll have to drag you there myself, kicking and screaming.'

'Of course, honey. Though, make that Tuesday. On Monday I have an all-day appointment to get pampered at Lavender's Beauty Parlour. After the week I've just had there is no way in the seven circles of hell that I'm going to cancel that appointment.'

He gave her a sharp look, not at all convinced by her sudden meekness, conjured an armchair for her, and helped her sit down.

Daphne gave a huff as she sat, 'You forgot the smelling salts, honey, should I call Matty to get them?'

A heavy load seemed to slide off his heart like a landslide, and a broad smile appeared on Harry's face. 'I take it you're feeling much better, given you're already back to making sarcastic comments.'

'Of course I am,' she replied and rolled her eyes at him. 'Neither I'm milking it as other people I could name appear to be doing,' she added in a much lower voice. Her eyes flickered to Ginny, who was still wailing on the ground.

Harry turned his head to take a look. Admittedly, Daphne had a point.

Williams kneed beside Ginny and was just about to help her sit up. Ginny clung to him as if her life depended on him, and came to an upright position with much moaning and groaning.

From Harry's point of view she looked perfectly fine, except for a tear in the side of her robes, and slightly tousled hair. Maybe he ought to feel sorry for bowling her over when he summoned Daphne towards himself with the most powerful wandless Summoning Charm he had ever cast silently. The impact surely had been much heavier than he'd expected. Yet, he couldn't find it in himself; Daphne had been in danger to be seriously injured, if not killed, and he had acted on instinct to prevent her from harm.

He sat down on the armrest of Daphne's chair, put an arm around her shoulder, and hugged her towards him. Thank Merlin she was alright; he didn't think he could have coped with another close call like the one five years ago.

Assisted by Williams, Ginny got on her feet, and gave Williams a blinding smile in thanks, while she still leaned on his arm. However, all thoughts of her supposed weakness were forgotten when she discovered the tear in her robes.

'My robes!' she shrieked, with an amazingly strong voice for a woman who'd just recovered from a severe shock.

Daphne's shoulders trembled under his arm, though her face remained blank. She let her wand slid out of the invisible holster on her arm and directed it on Ginny.

The tear in her robes repaired itself, and Ginny was stopped mid-rant.

'Are you a witch, or what?' Daphne asked mildly, and slipped the wand back into the holster.

Ginny furrowed her brows and cast her a murderous glance. The next second, however, she remembered where she was; a sweet, but fake smile appeared on her face, and she inclined her head in thanks.

Harry suppressed a sigh; it would seem to be too much to ask for Ginny and Daphne to get along. While Daphne would keep up a polite façade towards Ginny for the company's sake, there was no denying any longer that Ginny had tried twice to make a move on him since she returned to England, and there was probably more to come in the future. Daphne wouldn't let that pass unpunished, not as jealous as she was. Her blonde porcelain doll looks and polite Pureblood manners were deceiving: she hadn't been Sorted into Slytherin for nothing; if her ire was provoked, she'd strike as fast and painfully as the bite of her school's house emblem.

He tightened his grip around Daphne's shoulders and dropped a lingering kiss on her head. It had the desired effect: she relaxed, raised her head, and blew him a kiss in return, a small smile around her lips.

Harry breathed out: the immediate crisis was averted, however, he ought to have a talk with Ginny as soon as possible and discourage her of the silly notion that he'd ever return back to her. Daphne shouldn't be troubled by Ginny's silly games.

The rest of the night passed by uneventful, thank Merlin. Ginny coaxed Williams into escorting her home soon after the incident.

Daphne watched them leaving together, a smirk on her face. 'That's surely the biggest conquest he's made so far.'

Harry hummed in agreement. He couldn't care less about Williams' conquests that were the source of never ending gossip at headquarters, though in this case he might be useful: hopefully, the ever-tanned California surfer boy would give Ginny the shag of her life and keep her mind occupied elsewhere.

The last guests left in the wee hours of the morning. Harry escorted Daphne into their bedroom and made sure she was safe in bed and asleep before he returned to the ground floor in search of their house elves. The small creatures wouldn't go to sleep before they had set the house and grounds back to order so their mistress and master could have a quiet Sunday.

There was something about the incident with the barbecue grill that bothered him.

He found Matty and Mipsy in the kitchen, busy putting the elven equivalent of Stasis Charms on the leftovers, and storing them into the huge, American refrigerator that was the centerpiece of the kitchen.

'Mipsy, may I have a word?'

The younger elf put away the bowl she had in her hands and turned towards him.

'Yes, Master Harry?' Her voice was apprehensive, but she showed no fear. Greengrass elves were well cared for since the first elf came into the family centuries ago; Mipsy knew that she wouldn't face a severe punishment even if she'd made a mistake.

'Can you show me the bottle with the stuff you used to light the coals?'

Mipsy snapped her fingers, and a green plastic bottle appeared on the kitchen countertop in front of them.

Harry picked up the bottle and studied the label. It was a common Muggle lighting gel, the kind you could get at every shop that sold barbecue equipment. He twisted off the top and poured some of the contents into a small conjured bowl. A milky-white gel came out of the bottle, very unlike to the clear watery liquid he had seen when Mipsy tried to get the grill to work.

He shut the bottle, handed it back to Mipsy, and vanished the bowl with the small amount of lighting gel.

Mipsy gave him a curious look, Banished the bottle back to where it had come from with a snap of her fingers, and returned to her work.

With a nod at the elves Harry left the kitchen and walked upstairs to their room, his head bent deep in thought. There was no doubt whatever Mipsy had poured over the coals was different and more dangerous than the lighting gel that was supposed to be in the bottle. There was only one possible explanation for that: someone had Transfigured the contents of the bottle.

It was unfathomable to even think that it had been done by the elves, they were bound to Daphne and deeply devoted to her, and by extension to him.

No, the culprit had to be among the guest that were with them in the patio at the time. Even worse, the MO was very similar to the poisoning of Daphne five years ago. There was no proof, of course, but what if the incidents were related and both had been attacks on Daphne?

He groaned and rubbed his face with the palms of his hands. Maybe it was about time to pull his father-in-laws old investigator, Nicholas Greco out of his semi-retirement and set him to work on another confidential investigation _._

 _t.b.c._


	70. Chapter 67

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** This chapter was edited by the wonderful Shygui, and once again he did a marvellous job.

Chapters **67** and **68** , 29/11/18

* * *

 **67**

 _ **The Rectory, May 16th, 2008**_

Merlin damn it, that hurt! Stars danced in front of Ginny's eyes when her behind hit the hard flagstones of the patio. There was also a distinctive ripping sound that indicated that her expensive robes hadn't survived the fall without damage. Double damn it!

Ginny let out a scream of frustration. From the corner of her eyes, she looked at Harry.

He lay beside her, flat on his back, his arms wrapped protectively around Greengrass, and the wind knocked out of him. Without any doubt the noble prat had Summoned his wife towards him when she was dumb enough to step into the path of the jet of flame, he'd even twisted around so he'd take the brunt of their fall.

What was he thinking? He should have made sure his guest of honour didn't come to any harm. She whimpered; that never failed to get her the attention she wanted.

Except this time. Harry didn't even do so much as turn his head, his attention was solely on his irritating wife. Greengrass struggled in his arms, and he said something into her ear that calmed her down at once. The reply from the dratted woman was so low she couldn't understand it. Harry's next words, however, were loud and clear.

'Stay put,' he told Greengrass, and wriggled his way out from below her. Instead of finally turning his attention to his guest - his secret true love - and making sure she wasn't injured, he crouched down in front of his wife and examined her with more tenderness and care than the cow deserved.

That was unbearable. Ginny gritted her teeth; she had to do something.

'Haaarry!' she whimpered.

This got his attention, although not as she had planned on. Instead of showering her with care, he shot her an annoyed side glance.

Ginny barely suppressed a gasp of fury. How dare he?

Years of playing Quidditch had taught her to become a good actor whenever a foul had been committed against her - or when she wanted to make the referee think a foul had been committed against her - and she increased her whimper to a wail. This should get his attention and the care she was due.

There still was no reaction from Harry. She reached out with her hand and tugged at his arm.

Harry shrugged her off.

'Let me help you, Ms Weasley.'

Ginny turned her head and looked up at one of the finest male specimen she'd ever seen. Tall, tanned, with broad shoulders and narrow hips, and a mop of unruly, sun-streaked hair he looked like the surfer boys she had seen in California. Her abdomen constricted in an almost painful way, and she licked her lips. True to the role of the injured heroine, she let a weak smile appear on her face.

'Thank you so much, Mr…?'

'Williams, Morten Williams.' He put an arm behind her back and helped her sit upright.

She leaned against his solid body and gave him a blinding smile. 'Thank you for your assistance, Morten.' Ever conscious of her public appearance, she looked down her dress and gasped. There was a huge tear in her expensive designer robes.

'My robes!' she shrieked.

The next second, a spell hit her, and the tear repaired itself.

Ginny jerked her head up, only to stare into Greengrass' smirking face.

'Are you a witch or what?' the damned woman asked, and let her wand slip back into an invisible holster she carried on her right forearm.

Now, that was interesting. Why thought Greengrass it necessary to have her wand in easy access during a party at her own home? Even worse, the bitch had helped her in a predicament. Why hadn't she thought of repairing her robes herself? Although to be fair, she was hopeless when it came to anything household related. However, she had more pressing matters to attend to right now.

Ginny furrowed her brows and glared at Greengrass. Harry had conjured an armchair for the bitch and sat beside her on the armrest, a comforting arm around her shoulders. Within a second, she schooled her face into a polite smile and inclined her head in thanks. It wouldn't do to let Harry see that she destested his wife, it would only provoke him into coming to her defense, as chivalrous as he was. No, Harry needed to discover Greengrass' shortcomings in his own time, of course guided by herself.

'May I get you something to drink, Ms Weasley?' Morten Williams asked.

She gave him a smile that was very different from the one she'd given Greengrass. 'That would be very nice, Morten. But please, call me Ginny. Ms Weasley is my mother.'

'It's my pleasure,' Morten replied, and turned towards the bar to get her a drink.

From the corner of her eyes, Ginny watched Harry and his wife. He still had an arm around her shoulders. Now he even bent down and kissed the crown of her head. The bitch melted against him, raised her head, and blew him a kiss in return. The simper on her face was enough to make her want to vomit.

Morten returned with two glasses of elven champagne in his hands and offered one to her.

She thanked him with another blinding smile, accepted the glass, and took a sip, while her eyes never left his. This man was a gift of the gods, just what she had looked for to give Harry the wake-up call he needed. He might not be much in forms of standing in the British magical world, given that his accent clearly gave him away as an U.S. citizen. However, Harry had never cared much for social standing, so she didn't need to impress him in that area, anyway. What Morten lacked in standing, he more than made up in looks and charm. In short, he was everything Harry could never hope to be, even though he had developed nicely after he took that potion treatment. Oh, Harry was definitely eye-candy, there was no denying that, but Morten was in a league of its own.

She shook her fiery mane and let a few locks slide over her shoulders, while she gave him a sultry smile.

His sudden intake of breath indicated that he noticed. Her smile intensified, and she let her hand wander up his arm. He'd swallowed the bait. Now all she had to do was to reel him in.

* * *

One hour later Ginny led an appreciatively whistling Morten Williams into her private sitting room next to her bedroom at _Stinchcombe Hall_ , the main seat of the Potter family she had rented from Harry. She couldn't blame him, the sprawling country house and its precious antique interior was impressive. Each morning when she woke up she still had to pinch herself that she, poor Ginny Weasley from an impoverished family, now resided in such a splendor. Harry surely would love to live with her in his ancestral home as soon as he was ready to leave Greengrass…

But now was not the time to dream about the future; she had work to do. With a seductive smile, she pulled Morten Williams down onto the sofa beside her, and kissed him deeply. She closed her eyes; he was good, she'd enjoy this interplay before she could be with Harry.

She opened her eyes and looked up at Morten, the seductive smile still on her lips. The next second, she froze.

Mortens' wand was pointed at her. 'Imperio,' he said.

Warmth flooded her body, and everything seemed to float.

'Tell me everything you know about Harry and Daphne Potter,' he said.

 _t.b.c._


	71. Chapter 68

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Thank you to Shygui for your invaluable help with editing this story.

Chapters **67** and **68,** 29/12/18

* * *

 **68**

 _ **Stinchcombe Hall, May 17th 2008**_

This time, the elf was no match for him, he would've blasted the infernal creature into smithereens, had it denied him access to the house yet another time. It must have shown in his expression, because the elf had let out a fearful whimper and _Plopped_ away.

He hurried through the impressive entrance hall of _Stinchcombe Hall_ towards the central marble staircase.

Everything in the huge house oozed of impeccable taste and old money. Actually, "house" was probably the wrong word; this place was a veritable palace. Why Ginny had insisted on renting the vast country manor was beyond him. Potter had to have an army of house elves to keep the place in order.

The house boasted of an entire ground floor with no less than five reception rooms made for entertaining guests, with a swimming pool complex in an annex, and a huge stable complex out on the grounds, there were three two-bedroom-suites in addition to the master suite, and at least four more guest rooms with ensuites, not to mention a guest house with another four bedrooms. Of course, she had a childlike joy in indulging herself with the most expensive things her money could buy. It was strange, that after all these years at the top of her profession, deep inside of her she still harboured the insecurities of the eleven year old firstie in second-hand robes.

Well, he wouldn't begrudge her the pleasantries of life; she deserved the best. If renting _Stinchcombe Hall_ meant assurance for her that she'd really made it, he wouldn't breathe a word of protest. Then why couldn't he get over the suspicion she only rented it because it gave her a connection to Potter?

He gritted his teeth. Potter! Everything started and ended with him, ever since he could remember everything was always about him with Ginny. The bastard was the first one to blame when it came to her insecurities. He had ignored her when they were very young teenagers, then toyed with her for two short weeks, before he ditched her because she was in his way when he left to hunt down the Dark Lord, and yet another time because she stood between him and his money.

Ginny had eventually got over him, twice. But she'd never given up on him, no matter what she told him, even though nowadays her feelings for him were driven by resentment and a thirst for revenge. Nevertheless, she'd never be truly his before she'd had Potter and got from him whatever it was what she wanted. She probably even didn't know herself what that was.

He'd reached the first floor over his musings, and now stood in the spacious hallway that ran through the length of the house. Right in front of him a tall window opened towards the formal gardens at the back of the house, and allowed a great view of the lake in the park beyond. To his left were the guest suites, and to his right the master suite.

He didn't bother to knock; his anger was still hot enough to want an outlet, and she wouldn't have heard him, anyway. He pushed open the tall double doors and stormed through the private sitting room to another set of tall double doors on the opposite side. He pushed the gilded doors open with more force than necessary. They banged against the wall with a most satisfying loud thud.

Ginny shot upright in the huge four poster bed, the satin duvet clutched in front of her naked bosom. Her eyes flickered to her wand, out of her immediate reach on the bedside table, and then to his face.

'Oh, it's you.' She heaved a deep breath and laid back.

His eyes searched the bed next to her. It was empty. So, she'd at least had the decency to send her lover home.

'Yeah, it's me,' he snarled. 'What the bloody hell has got into you, Ginny? _Miss bes with visitor. Miss bes not disturbed.'_ He parroted the squeaky voice of the house elf. 'Then the blasted creature Banished me out into the courtyard and sealed the doors against me! Damn you, Ginny, we have an agreement. I don't mind you sleeping with the blokes we've both picked out as possible candidates for your next husband. This Williams bloke, however, wasn't on the list. If you think I'll keep my mouth shut to you cheating on me, you're mistaken.'

She'd retreated deeper into the sumptuous cushions of the luxurious bed with each word he'd said, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open.

'Wh … What's got into you, love? I've never seen you like this.'

He growled. 'You've never cheated on me before. Tell me, do you love that bloke?'

'Do I love …?' She gaped at him once more. 'Of course not.' She cast the duvet back, slid out of the bed, and walked towards him in all her naked glory. She pressed herself against him and slid her arms around his neck. Her warm breath caressed his throat.

He gritted his teeth. Of course she had to fight dirty, she knew very well that he wasn't able to resist her, especially a naked her.

'You know you're the only one for me, love. Morten is just a means to an end; I need a hunk of a man on my arm to make Harry jealous.'

Red spots appeared in front of his eyes, and his stomach churned. Potter! Everything always came back to him. His hands shot up, and he yanked her arms off his neck. 'Stop it, Ginny. That won't work with me today.'

She winced under the iron grip of his hands on her arms. 'You're hurting me.'

He loosened his grip. 'I'm sorry.'

'As you should be.'

Chocolate brown eyes pouted at him, melted him into a helpless puddle of goo at her feet. Merlin grant that she'd never find out about the power she held over him. The flames of his ire extinguished themselves in those molten pools.

He raised his arm and cupped her cheek with the palm of his hand, his voice soft as he spoke. 'Ginny, love … I hate to say it, but I think you're deluding yourself if you think you can arouse Potter's interest by starting an affair with that bloke from the U.S.A.'

She stiffened under his hand, the spark of a dangerous fire gleamed in her eyes. 'What do you mean?' She took a step back and let his hand slide off her face.

A beam of sunlight found its way through a gap in the closed brocade curtains in front of the windows and bathed her in a golden light.

His throat constricted. She was so beautiful! A grown up woman, a tough Quidditch professional, with the figure of a goddess, and a mane of red hair that set him on fire each time he looked at her. Yet, she was still so insecure, childlike and naïve on the inside. Probably nobody except him knew how insecure she really was … Merlin, he hated to do this to her, however, he had to try and make her see reason, she was set on a path that would destroy her, and she'd take him with her.

He took her by the hand, led her to the bed and motioned her to sit down on the edge.

She followed his lead, her eyebrows creased in a deep frown. 'What's this all about?'

He sat down beside her, her hand still in his and contemplated his next words carefully. 'You know I love you, right? So let me ask if you have stopped and thought about Potter's reaction to you since your return? From where I'm standing he doesn't seem to be exactly thrilled about it.'

Ginny shrugged her shoulders. 'Of course not, he can't show his real feelings. You must've noticed how Greengrass always keeps close to him and never lets him out of her sight. I'm not surprised about that; I know Harry, he's a very passive person, he's let himself be slapped around far too often. That's why I need Morten, I need to shake him up, he needs to realise he's in danger of losing me once and for all.'

His stomach hardened, and the first signs of a headache throbbed at his temples. He pinched his lips together and suppressed the swear word that welled up in him. _Cazzo*!_ She was even further from acknowledging reality than he'd thought.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and tried to reason with her again. 'No, Ginny, it's not like that. You'll hurt yourself if you continue finding excuses. You need to look at his behaviour and analyse it rationally for what it is, and not what you want it to be. Nothing in his behaviour even remotely suggests he might have the slightest interest in you. It's quite the contrary, I'm afraid.'

She yanked her hand out of his and crossed her arms in front of her chest. The fire in her eyes became more pronounced. 'Explain. Remember, you are the Slytherin who can analyse people and their motivation in the blink of an eye. I'm just a straightforward Gryffindor.'

Great, now she was mocking at him. The chances of him getting through to her were becoming slimmer by the minute. Yet still he had to try to make her see reason.

'Take the night of the ball, for example. Did you notice the way he and his wife stuck together when they made their entrance? Yes, they might've put on a show for the public, but it looked damned genuine to me. Remember how they behaved in the reception line. They had eyes only for each other, the rest of us might have well have been absent for all they would have noticed.'

She didn't move one bit. Her lips pressed together in a thin line, she glared at him. However, she didn't come up with a retort, either. Was that a good sign? Maybe he needed to become more specific.

'Whilst I agree that Greengrass was thrown into a loop when she realised you were Shacklebolt's dinner partner. However, have you once thought about Potter's reaction to that? He led her to her place, kissed her hand and caressed her cheek, Ginny. He even winked at her. He was reassuring her, Ginny! He was aware that she was upset and he very deliberately in front of all of us reassured her that he was there for her and her alone!'

She huffed and turned her head away. 'Of course, he had to do that not to make her suspicious.'

'Alright, I have another example for you. During dinner, Potter not once reacted to your attempts to flirt with him.'

'Well, it would've got him into trouble with his wife, wouldn't it? She never let him out of her sight.'

The throbbing in his temples intensified. He couldn't fight the urge any longer and raised both hands and rubbed his temples. Merlin, did she have an answer to everything? She even might've made a point, Greengrass had watched Potter all of the time. Oh, she'd been discrete about it, but he'd also been in the house of snakes and could tell the signs.

'Okay I'll concede that.' He'd rather have bitten his tongue off than to concede. At least it made her turn back and smile at him.

'Told you so.'

He held up his hand to stop her. 'Yeah, but what about his behaviour after he danced with you? Wasn't he the one to stop and talk to Wood and his wife when you tried to drag him into the garden? It looked like stalling, you know. And let us not forget that he slipped straight back to his wife's embrace when Longbottom forced you onto the dancefloor.'

Her eyes darkened. 'I'm going to have words with Neville about that one of these days. Morgana knows what he's been thinking, he never liked Slytherins, and he's my friend.'

'I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news for you, love. But while you were busy stalking Potter at the ball, I caught up with the latest gossip we'd missed during our stay in the States. Longbottom and Greengrass are cousins, and quite close it seems, and it also appears as though they have been as thick as thieves ever since Greengrass married Potter.'

'You're taking the mickey.' She'd paled at his words.

He shook his head. 'I wish I was. He and his wife are part of the very small circle of close friends the Potters have formed around them. They as a collective are the new elite in this country, Ginny. Longbottom is Potter's right hand at the Wizengamot, and your brothers are his spokesmen at Gringotts and the Ministry respectively, while Finch-Fletchley is working hand in hand with him to bring the magical economy back to the state it was in before the war. There are even whispers that their reforms will surpass the economic strength our world held in the mid eighteen hundreds.'

She huffed at that. 'Politics! As if Harry's interested in that.'

'Get real, Ginny, Potter's into politics up to his ears. Even worse, Cyrus Greengrass used his considerable political influence to aid Potter and cronies ever since Potter became a member of the Wizengamot. When he died, Greengrass inherited his seat as well as his position as the leader of the Neutral Faction. Together, Potter and Greengrass are the most influential people in magical Britain. Do you think Potter will give that up for you, a Quidditch player with no influence in magical Britain beyond the sports section of _The Prophet_?'

Her eyes threw daggers at him, and she stiffened even more, if possible. Had he gone too far?

The next moment she relaxed, threw her head back, and burst out into laughter.

His stomach dropped, and he blinked at her. Had she gone round the bend?

Her laughter stopped as sudden as it had begun. 'I never expected Harry to divorce her, silly. That'll cost him a big chunk of his gold, and we couldn't have that, could we?'

He let out a deep breath. 'I'm relieved you still think rationally. For a moment you had me there.'

She scooted closer and kissed his cheek. 'Poor baby. Don't fret that much and leave it to me to seduce Harry.'

'It won't work, Ginny. Potter won't give up everything he's worked for the last ten years for just a shag on the side.'

She flinched back and stared at him. The deep scowl had returned to her face.

'Face it, Ginny, Potter will never again become a slave to your whims. That man is deeply in love with his own wife. Remember for how long they disappeared during the ball? How he stuck by her side for the rest of the night? Or what about yesterday? He was as white as a sheet when that exploding barbecue grill almost burnt Greengrass to a crisp, and he'd eyes only for her afterwards. He never took his hands off her for the rest of the night.'

Her posture didn't change. He still hadn't gone through to her.

Like a gust of wind her stubborn attitude stoked the glowing embers of his ire about her cheating on him with Williams. He shook his head as if in deep sorrow. 'You prostituted yourself in vain with Williams, I'm afraid.'

She shot up as if bitten by a snake. 'What?' Her face morphed into an ugly sneer. 'Well, at least Morten is a wonderful lover. Hemade me come multiple times, in stark contrast to someone else I could name.'

Red, hot flames consumed him.

' _Bagascia.**'_

He raised his hand and slapped her so hard she was flung back onto the bed, and stormed out of the room without another glance at her.

 _t.b.c._

* * *

 _*_ Italian for "shit"

** Italian for "whore"

both according to . I wouldn't know, I don't speak Italian.


	72. Chapter69

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** I can't tell you often enough how much this story benefits from Shyguis' editing. In this chapter his suggestions helped getting across the point I wanted yo make once again. You are the best!

Chapter **69** only, 5/12/18 - one day early, I'm traveling tomorrow.

* * *

 **69**

 _ **The Rectory, May 17th 2008**_

Harry propped his head on his hand as he watched his still sleeping wife. She had removed the Glamour Charms on herself, and in the dim light of the early morning sun seeping into their room through the slits in the shutters her skin seemed sallow, and she had deep, black circles under her eyes.

His mouth became dry. How ill was Daphne? Her reached out with his free hand and caressed her cheek with the tip of his fingers.

She smiled in her sleep, a smile that never failed to turn his insides warm.

With a last, long gaze at his wife Harry cast a Silencing Charm on himself, slipped out of their bed and headed to the bathroom to get ready for the day. He'd let Daphne sleep as long as possible, Merlin knew she looked as if she needed it.

Thirty minutes later he sat at the desk of the study he shared with Daphne, a mug of tea next to him, and wrote a letter to Nicholas Greco. The sooner the private investigator looked into last night's incident, the better. This was not an investigation for the Auror Department; the suspects would put the blame on the Potter house elves, and because of that the case would be closed within a few days. However, this wasn't an accident; someone had deliberately tried to harm Daphne again, and that wouldn't be allowed to stand.

He sealed the letter, called Matty and told her to deliver the letter. On his way downstairs he peeked into the bedroom. Daphne was still sound asleep. With nothing else to do, he decided to take a stroll through the gardens.

Nothing had remained from yesterday's party, even the huge tent was already gone. The elves must've cast Regrowing Charms on the lawn, not a single blade of paler or trampled grass indicated to the spot where the tent had been. He took the path that circled the border of the park beyond the formal gardens next to the house towards the orchard and led from there back to the Apparition point in front of the gates to the main house.

He'd just stepped out of the orchard when the chiming of the ward bell announced the arrival of Nicholas Greco.

He gave Harry a guarded look. 'Mr Potter.'

Harry couldn't blame him for his reticence. Cyrus had employed Greco on a regular base; his late father-in-law had hoarded knowledge about anyone he ever had to deal with. In spite of what he'd been through in his childhood and early youth, he hadn't developed Cyrus' level of paranoia. Neither had Daphne, so they didn't have as much use for Greco as Cyrus had had, although they still came back to him for things like the investigation into the financial background of new business contacts, or possible former Death Eater connections in case of a magical business.

'Thank you for coming on such short notice, Mr Greco, and on a Sunday morning to boot.' He shook hands with Greco, ushered him across the private patio towards the French doors that led into the breakfast room, and held the door open for him.

Daphne sat at the table, a cup of tea in front of her, and nibbled at a slice of dry toast, though she didn't look as if she was enjoying her frugal meal. On the contrary, she looked as if she was going to throw it and everything else in her stomach up at any second.

He cringed; what was wrong with her? And why in the world didn't she sleep in? Now he was going to be forced to include her into his meeting with Greco, and that wasn't something he liked at all, at least not as long as Daphne wasn't feeling well. He suppressed a rueful smile, he'd better not let her know the latter; she'd give him a piece of her mind if she ever found out he was trying to shelter her.

She looked up at the sound of the opening door; a slight frown appeared on her face when she recognised Greco, that was replaced immediately by a smile of welcome. She stood up and greeted the investigator, though she cast a quick, confused side glance at Harry.

'Let's sit down in the family room. This is going to be a nasty business, so we as well can be comfortable,' Harry said.

Daphne stepped beside him, her eyebrows drawn together, and took his arm. 'What has happened?' she asked in a low voice.

He put his arm around her waist and propelled her into the family room. 'You'll find out in a minute, darling.'

She gave him a quick side glance with raised eyebrows and pursed lips, and sat down beside him without another comment.

Harry asked Matty to bring fresh tea and biscuits, and then launched into a tale about the incident next to the barbecue grill. Greco became rigid when he described his findings in regards to the lighting gel, and Daphne let out a small gasp.

'Why didn't you tell me last night?'

He took her hand and gave it a small squeeze. 'You were already sound asleep, darling.'

She looked as if she was going to comment on that, yet decided otherwise, pressed her lips into a thin line, and gave him a sidewards glance that indicated they'd talk later.

Greco pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers, a deep frown on his face. 'This incident bears an alarming similarity to the incident five years ago, when Mrs Potter was poisoned, doesn't it? The MO is the same, I'd say, and quite a lot of the suspects of the last incident were on the scene as well, just to name Pince, Cadwallader and Williams.'

Daphne startled and let out a small gasp.

Harry put his arm around her and gave Greco a short nod, his lips pressed together. 'That also caught my attention, Mr Greco. Abbott and Pyke were also there.'

Greco crossed his legs and rubbed his chin with one hand. 'We've done a thorough investigation at that time and came up empty. Especially Cadwallader and Williams both had a spotless reputation.'

'Yes. Too spotless, if you ask me,' Harry said. He leaned forward and propped his elbows on his thighs. 'Even Pince, the old bore, had a ticket or two for raising hell at the _Leaky Cauldron_ when he was drunk as a young man, Head Auror Weasley found out.' He straightened and shook his head. 'We can't afford not to investigate Malfoy and his cronies, either. Even though I don't share Head Auror Weasley's suspicions regarding Lucius Malfoy, I can't deny that the Malfoy angle potentially stands out in this incident. Nott is Draco Malfoy's best friend, Davis is his lawyer who bailed him out of Azkaban again and again, and McLaggen is his business partner in one of his respectable businesses.'

He let out a deep sigh. 'I want you to look into everyone who was there. Turn every stone, Mr Greco. I'm tired of all the "accidents" that have happened to Daphne and me. I've denied what was right in front of my nose for too long. This has to come to an end.'

Greco pulled a notepad and biro out of the pocket of his Muggle suit. 'Alright, Mr Potter, who was on the patio when the incident happened?'

Harry enumerated the people he'd seen with the help of the fingers of his hand. 'Director McLean, his deputy, Patterson, Cadwallader and Williams, all employees of Crystal Fairy's. They chatted with Daphne when she was called by Mipsy. At another table there were former Director Pince, Director Abbott, and Pyke. They talked to a wizard who had his back to me; he seemed somewhat familiar, but I can't come up with a name.'

'That was Shane Procter. He's second in command to Elias Frudge, the owner of the chain of American laboratories where we produce the potions for the U.S. market,' Daphne said.

Greco's eyebrows rose at that. 'Wasn't Frudge present at the incident in the laboratory at Crystal Fairy's?'

Harry nodded. 'So were the former co-owners of his business. However, Frudge was appalled of their connections to the Pureblood supremacist movement that came out into the light when you investigated the Crogans five years ago, and he bought them out. Procter joined the company somewhere around that time.'

'I don't believe in happenstance,' Greco said, and jotted down another line on his notepad. He looked up. 'Who else?'

'Ginny, her agent, Theodore Nott, Draco Malfoy and his wife, Sophie, Roger Davis, Cormac McLaggen and his wife, Pansy McLaggen-Parkinson,' Harry said.

Greco let out a small whistle. 'That's quite a list; how many on it harbour a grudge against you or your wife, Mr Potter?'

Harry and Daphne shared a look, and broke out into a mirthless laughter.

'Too many, if you ask me,' Harry said. 'Though, you can probably scratch off McLaine, Patterson, and Ginny's agent. Neither Daphne nor I ever butted heads with any of them.'

Daphne shifted in her seat. 'That's not true, honey. I had an unpleasant encounter with Ginny's agent at the Veterans Ball.'

Harry turned towards his wife with a raised eyebrow. 'You never told me about that.'

'He basically told me not to stand into Ginny's way as she tried to get you back, or -.' She broke up and bit her lips.

'Or what, darling?' Harry gave her a sharp look from under his eyebrows. 'You'd better tell me, it might be important.'

'I might be mistaken, but it seemed to me he threatened to kill me,' she said in a very low voice. 'He said something about obstacles in Ginny's way that are disposable, and then he added it would be a shame about a beautiful woman like me.'

Harry's chest tightened, and he froze. He put his arm around Daphne and pulled her close. He'd be damned if he let that bastard get at Daphne. Aloud he said, 'I'm sorry you had to put up with him, darling. You should've told me about his threat immediately.'

Greco cleared his throat. 'You ought to know, Mr Potter, that your late father-in-law asked me to investigate Ms Weasley's background about ten years ago, shortly before your marriage to Mrs Potter. Ms Weasley was supposed to be your steady girlfriend back then.'

A jolt went through Harry. He startled, gaped at Greco for a short moment, and let out a small laugh. 'Why am I surprised by that? I should've known; it's so typical Cyrus, isn't it?'

'Cyrus was a very thorough man who liked to know with whom he had to deal,' Greco said.

Daphne snorted. 'That's putting it mildly.'

Harry gave the private investigator a hard stare. 'What did you find out, Mr Greco? I doubt you mentioned that investigation just because our talk triggered a memory.'

Greco shifted in his seat, and his eyes didn't meet Harry's. 'Well, I found out that Ms Weasley was seeing someone else beside you, Mr Potter. I'm sorry to tell you she had an affair with her agent. On Cyrus' orders I continued observing her through my U.S. contact until the time of Mr Cyrus' death. The affair lasted at least until then, even though she had been married for three times over the years.'

Something seemed to lift of Harry's chest. So, his suspicions had been right all along, and Ginny had served him a brazen lie all those years ago in the orchard of _The Burrow._ Merlin, he'd been naïve beyond tolerable back then, hadn't he? He let out a deep breath and shook his head. 'I always suspected that much, though I never had proof. Thanks for telling me, Mr Greco. Another skeleton from the closet of my teenage years I can bury, at last.'

Daphne hadn't moved through his exchange with Greco, nor showed any other sign of surprise. He turned to his wife. 'You knew?'

She bit her lips, a slight pink tinge on her cheeks, and nodded. 'Father told me in June, before we got married, and even before he … suggested that idea to you. I never knew how to bring it up between us. I'm so sorry, honey.'

He hugged her to himself. 'No need for that, darling. You were in an awkward position. Besides that, it doesn't matter anymore.' He let out another short laugh and cast his eyes heavenwards. 'I never thought I'd say it aloud, Cyrus, you old bastard, but thanks for saving me from the clutches of a gold digger.'

That broke the tension; they laughed, and Greco put away the notepad and the biro. He got up from his seat. 'I'm going to do a background check on everyone you mentioned, Mr Potter, Ms Weasley and her agent included, and will come back to you as soon as possible.'

He made his goodbyes, and Harry let him out of the door.

When he returned to the living room, he found Daphne turning her empty tea mug in her hands over and over again, and staring into space. She startled when he sat down beside her.

He put an arm around her shoulder and gave her a small hug. 'A Knut for your thoughts.'

Daphne leaned her head against his shoulder and said in a quiet voice, 'Did you know that I prepared myself for you continuing your relationship with Ginny? I never would've said a word about it, you know.'

His stomach fluttered, and he blinked. Why would she have tolerated such a despicable behaviour from him? Aloud he said, 'That's what she wanted me to do. She offered it, twice, you know.'

His wife raised her head and looked at him with big eyes. 'And you declined?' she asked, disbelief and incredulity evident in her voice.

He let out an embarrassed laugh. 'Of course I did. Mind you, darling, I'm not a saint, however, Ginny's offer seemed like a sure recipe for disaster to me. Arthur talked to me the night after I had told the Weasleys my decision to accept Cyrus' … uh…' He coughed. 'To accept Cyrus' generous offer. He said to give you … us … a chance and find out what we could be. I think that maybe following his advice was the smartest thing I have ever done in my life.'

Harry put both arms around his wife. Her eyes never left his face; there was a light in them that touched something deep inside of him and made his heart beat faster.

'You are the most important person in my life, Daphne. I couldn't go on without you. However, nothing of what we have would have happened, had I agreed to Ginny's offer, don't you think? That had the potential to make all three of us extremely unhappy; I couldn't do that.' He tightened his embrace around her. 'Looking back from where we are today, I made the right decision; we've come a long way, don't you agree?'

The strange light in her eyes intensified, and she gave him a blinding smile. 'Absolutely.'

* * *

 _ **London, May 18th 2008**_

Harry walked down the steps of the entrance of the London Chamber of Commerce and Industry, his briefcase in one hand and his coat over his arm, and looked on his wristwatch. When he'd Apparated into a safe spot that morning, it had still been chilly, and he had needed the coat. During the long hours of the meeting he had just attended, however, the sun had come out to play, and now it was almost as warm as in summer.

Should he call a black cab to get back to headquarters, or walk the short distance? Daphne wouldn't be there, anyway, she had taken a day off to let herself being pampered at Lavender's Beauty Parlour. Hopefully it would help her recuperate from the stress of preparing a huge garden party on short notice. Lunch at headquarters without Daphne wasn't fun; he'd better walk the short distance, some exercise never hurt, and grab a sandwich on the way.

His mind made up, he adjusted his cloak and his briefcase and walked into the direction of headquarters. He didn't pay much heed to his surroundings while he walked in a brisk pace and recapitulated the events of this morning's meeting. Without any doubt Daphne would be pleased by the outcome, they both had -

'Harry! What a nice surprise!'

A familiar voice interrupted his thoughts. His stomach dropped, and he gritted his teeth and suppressed a groan.

Ginny!

Why by Merlin's unmentionables had he to run into her, of all people, in a city as big as London? He didn't bother to mask his annoyance when he turned around and looked down at her beaming face; after all, she hadn't left out a single opportunity to vex him ever since she had returned to England.

'Ginny. What brings you here?'

She wasn't fazed in the slightest by his curtness. Instead, she grabbed his arm, snuggled against him, and gave him a sultry smile. 'I've just finished a photo shooting for Crystal Fairy and was looking for a place to have lunch. What a good fortune I ran into you; I hate having lunch on my own.'

What a good fortune? She must be taking the mickey, he couldn't think of anything less fortunate. However, by the way she beamed up at him, she meant every word. Merlin, what had got into her? By now she must have noticed he had no interest in her.

She snuggled even closer, and he suppressed an exasperated groan and tried to get some space. No chance there, apparently subtle signs weren't Ginny's strong point.

He took a deep breath to center himself. He didn't like what he'd have to do right now, however, all the years of working in the management of Crystal Fairy's, first under Cyrus and now as the C.E.O., had taught him that sometimes it was necessary to deliver a crushing blow. Ginny needed to hear a few truths, however, he owed it to Molly and Arthur to be as gentle as possible about that.

He disentangled himself from her and grabbed her by the elbow. 'Splendid idea. Let's grab some takeaway and sit down somewhere to talk.'

'Wonderful!' She almost purred and tried to get closer once again. Merlin, she was as bad as the Giant Squid with all of its arms. He was lucky his hand around her elbow prevented her from snuggling up to him.

With an inward shake of his head, Harry led her across the street to a Chinese takeaway. The boxes with food and drinks in their hands, they walked to a bench in the middle of a small park around the corner. They were on show for the passersby, which suited him just fine; there was no way he'd have lunch with Ginny in a secluded corner; he'd probably have to fight for his virtue during the whole meal. He waited until she had sat down, and took a place as far from her as possible.

As if on cue, a pout appeared on her face, and she scooted closer. 'Why so distant, Harry?'

At least he'd had the good sense to put his briefcase and coat between him and Ginny, or she'd by now be sitting on his lap. That would go over well with Daphne, if she ever found out. He let his wand slip out an inch of the holster on his arm and cast a Privacy Ward around them. Merlin only knew how Ginny's Weasley temper would react to what he had to say.

'You know I'm married, Ginny; I don't want anyone to get the wrong impression.'

She laughed that nerve-grating laugh of hers. 'As if you care! I was there when you told us you had to marry her, remember? You've been blackmailed into that marriage of yours by her father.'

He opened the box; the fragrance of chicken and noodles covered in a spicy sauce hit his nostrils, and his stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. Would he be able to get something of that down? His stomach had always reacted sensitive to his emotions, and there was no denying that Ginny was getting at him. He took a tentative forkful, chewed and swallowed, and said, 'That may be true; but that doesn't mean I don't care for Daphne feelings or our marriage.'

She froze, her fork, heaped with vegetables and rice, hovered above the box, and she gaped at him for a long moment. The next second her face was all smiles. 'You prat; you almost had me fooled there. Of course you don't care for her; after all, Potter men fall in love only once in their lives and at a very young age. There's no way you care for Greengrass, since you're already in love with me.' She turned back to her meal and put the fork into her mouth.

Harry choked at the bite he just swallowed and got a coughing fit. He was what? Merlin, had she become a potion addict during her time in the U.S.A. and lost her sense for reality? He took a sip of his coke, and croaked, 'Please tell me that you're taking the mickey.'

The look she gave him over the rim of her box before she took the next bite reminded him of Hermione when he and Ron had tried her patience. 'Of course not. You know that it's true.'

'It's not.' He shook his head at her and lowered the box with his lunch into his lap. 'I'm most definitely not in love with you, Ginny.' What was that about people always assuming he was capable of loving someone? First Dumbledore, now Ginny … Merlin, he'd never known love while he grew up, how was he supposed to know how to love someone?

 _And what about Daphne?_ a small voice in his head piped up, yet was drowned out by Ginny's next words.

'I really don't know why you're still trying to keep up appearances with Greengrass, Harry. Sirius told me everything about how your father fell in love with your mother in his third year. He said you're just like your father, you were also without fail going to fall in love with a redhead at a very young age. And that's what you did; you fell in love with me.'

'Sirius told you that?' He barely refrained from rolling his eyes. He shouldn't be surprised about that, Sirius had been very fond of the Firewhisky in those days, and clung to the nostalgic memories of a past that never would come back.

She took another bite of rice and vegetables and nodded.

'Well, you shouldn't have believed him. He was wrong.'

Her head jerked around to him and sent her hair flying over one shoulder. 'What?'

'Sirius was wrong,' he repeated. 'I'm not a clone of my father, Ginny. I might look like him, but I'm my own person, you know. Sirius, on the other hand, always saw me as a reincarnation of the best friend he'd lost, I'm afraid. Sad, but true, Sirius knew too little about me to see me for who I really was.'

His appetite had deserted him, and he dumped the box with the remaining food in it into the trash bin next to the bench and picked up his can of coke. 'I don't deny I … cared for you when Cyrus hatched his despicable plan and forced me to marry Daphne. Your father, Ginny, advised me to give Daphne and me a chance. It was the best advice I ever got. It only took a week of our honeymoon for me to discover that Daphne is a very special woman.'

Ginny gave a derisive snort at that. 'She opened her legs for you. That doesn't make her special, Harry. Any hooker could've done that for you.'

He tensed; his head jerked around, his hand clenched around the can until it crackled, and he gave her a cold, hard stare. 'You'd better not talk about my wife like that ever again, Ginny. I wasn't talking about sex. The first week of our honeymoon I spent in hospital, to be treated with the _Renouvellement_ Potion. Daphne never left my side. Did you know that the _Renouvellement_ Potion requires a witch or wizard to act as your anchor in this life while you're under the effects? Daphne acted as my anchor, and she kept me from falling down the abyss and dying more than once during the week my treatment lasted. She learned a lot about me during that time, things I rather would've kept to myself. I wasn't pleased when I found out; Daphne at once offered a magical oath to me that she'd keep my secrets.'

'Of course she would. I bet she worded it in a way that she can get around it anytime,' Ginny said with another derisive snort, and flipped her hair over her shoulder. 'After all, she is a Slytherin.' She put another forkful of her lunch into her mouth.

'I refused the oath.'

Ginny's head flew around. She stopped chewing and swallowed. 'What? I never thought you'd be that foolish.'

'I refused the oath. Instead, I decided to trust her, and she has never betrayed me. That's what our marriage is based on, mutual trust and affection. But you wouldn't understand that, would you, Ginny?'

She let her fork drop into the remaining rice and vegetables in the small box on her lap. Her shoulders drooped, and her chin quivered slightly. 'No, I wouldn't know. I never experienced something like that in all of my marriages. They were nothing but an attempt to get over you, Harry. Needless to say I failed each time.'

Harry clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding together he threw his can of coke into the waste bin and crossed his arms in front of his chest. So, she still tried to feed him that load of dragon dung about her pining after him, even after all these years. How dumb did she think him?

Heat welled up in him, and he took a deep breath to center himself. The lunch hour was not yet over, and the small park was crowded with professionals from the surrounding businesses. As C.E.O. of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products, one of the biggest British companies still in private hands, his face was well known in Muggle business circles, and many a curious glance had been cast at Ginny and him ever since they sat down on the bench in the middle of the park. If he let his temper get the better of him, that would make rounds in no time. Cyrus had taught him better than that.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment and listened to the birds chirping in the trees around him the roaring traffic on the streets surrounding the park didn't manage to drown out completely. A whiff of cut grass reached his nostrils, reminding him of yesterday's walk through the park and along the adjoining meadow with Daphne, and his anger faded away.

A touch on his arm brought him back to reality. He opened his eyes and turned his head.

Ginny had extracted her arm over the barrier of his briefcase and coat he had put between them, and her eyes burned at him with a fire he had once mistaken as a sign of her affection for him. 'You can't deny we were good together, Harry. We will be good together once again.'

'We were teenager back then, Ginny. We worked reasonably well for a couple of weeks, but I doubt we would have lasted much longer.'

She jerked her hand back as if he had hit her. 'No … No, how can you say something like that?'

Harry let out a sigh and unfolded his arms. Despite his anger about her, this was harder than he'd thought. 'Actually, it was your father who got me thinking. He said hardly anyone ends marrying their first girlfriend. Most couples are still very young at that time and tend to grow apart and in different directions. Arthur pointed out to me and highlighted that this was already happening to us. What he said was accurate too, you thought about nothing more than Quidditch, while I had already dipped a toe into the shark pool of politics. Arthur doubted that you would be willing or able to support me there.'

Ginny tilted her head to the side and looked at him, her eyebrows gathered in a deep frown. 'You? Politics? You're taking the mickey, Harry.'

Harry shook his head. 'I'm not, and you've just confirmed your father's assumptions about you were correct, Ginny. You obviously have no idea of what I'm doing, as your incredulous question just betrayed. Ever since the end of the Battle of Hogwarts I have wanted to change magical Britain. Your father told me that my victory over Voldemort put me into a position of influence like Dumbledore had held in his time. I decided that I wanted to use my influence, and I'd started with that even before they offered me a seat on the Wizengamot. However, I couldn't have done it alone, without Daphne's support I wouldn't have achieved anywhere close to what I have managed so far, and I still have so much that needs changing. I doubt you could have done the same.'

Again, she reached out with her hand and pressed his arm. 'Of course I could have. Don't you know I would've done anything for you, silly? I still will. How difficult can it be to smile at a couple of reporters? It's what I do all the time.'

He gave her another shake of his head. 'It's not as simple as that. Besides, even though my reputation is larger than life in the wizarding world, I doubt it would've survived the gossip about my wife cuckolding me'

A miniscule flicker went across her face, and she shifted in her seat ever so slightly. 'Your perfect Pureblood wife has been cheating on you, Harry? Well, I'm not sorry about that. One reason more to leave her, I'd say.'

He grinded his teeth, and his lips flattened into a thin line. 'Stop it, Ginny. You know it wasn't Daphne who cheated on me. Did you really think I'd never find out about your ongoing affair with your Slytherin lover? What's his name again … Blaise? What are your plans, Ginny? Am I supposed to become your husband number five before you ditch me in another couple of years? That surely would be the biggest catch you've made so far and add a nice sum to your coffers, wouldn't it?'

Her face had turned crimson. 'How… how do you dare?'

Harry let out a derisive snort. 'Oh, quite easily. After all, you're the one who prostituted herself for the gold.'

'You have no right to look down on me, Harry Potter; you are the one who left me without any protection and went out on adventure with my brother and his girlfriend.' The knuckles of her hands stood out white from her balled fists, her face was a crimson mask of fury, and she trembled all over her body.

His body tensed once again. She had the audacity to put the blame for her screwed up decisions in life on him? Well, that would've worked with his teenage self; he'd been conditioned by the Dursleys to take on the blame for anything bad that happened. However, first the _Renouvellement_ Potion and later years of loving support from Daphne had taught him to change his attitude. Ginny was going to find out about that right now.

'The guilt trip won't work, Ginny. I did everything I could manage back then to keep you safe. Unfortunately, it wasn't much. You'll never know how much that hurt me. But answer me this Ginny, how was I supposed to help you when I was being hunted like an animal, whilst I tried to find the means to destroy Voldemort?'

Her posture didn't change. 'You could have, had you really tried. After all, you're the Chosen One.'

He laughed, though there was no trace of mirth in it. 'Ah, and now we're finally coming to the important part. It's taken me a while to understand this, but you, Ginny, never saw me as a human being. All you wanted, all you saw was the Boy-Who-Lived, the fame and the gold that came with the silly moniker.' He stood up, gathered his briefcase and coat, and turned to her for a last time. 'You know what, I'm glad for Cyrus' interference that forced me to break up with you. A marriage to you would've been hell. At least Daphne always saw me as just Harry. She's my partner in so many ways and stands by my side supporting me in ways that you never could've done.' He looked down at her with a long hard stare.

She gaped, the crimson of her face had given way to a greyish pallor. Her mouth moved, as if she was going to talk, but no sound came out.

He gave her another hard stare. 'Goodbye, Ginny, if I see you again it will be too soon.'

With that, he turned around, stepped into the thick brushes behind the bench, and Apparated away without a sound.

 _t.b.c._


	73. Chapter 70

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** This chapter was edited by the fabulous Shygui who is faithfully helping me with this monster of a story for about almost a year by now. You are absolutely amazing, my friend!

Chapters **70** \- **72** , 13/12/18

* * *

 **70**

 _ **London, May 18th 2008**_

The black cab dropped her off not far from the Dorchester Hotel on Park Lane. Ginny looked up at the façade of the tall, sprawling red brick building in front of her and suppressed a whistle. This was one of London's most sought after residential buildings. Morten Williams must be much better off than she'd originally thought.

She ran her fingers up the smooth balustrade that matched the marble stairs that she walked up, admiring the beauty as they opened into an opulent reception hall. A fountain threw tinkling rays of water into the air; the melodious sound was the only noise that could be heard in the rotund room.

Someone cleared their throat behind her; startled, she whirled around.

The concierge desk was well hidden in a niche at the side of the room. A middle aged man in a dark blue uniform with golden accents looked at her, an apologising smile on his unremarkable features. 'I'm sorry I startled you, madam. To whom may I announce you, Ms...?'

'Weasley, Ginny Weasley. I have an appointment with Mr Williams.'

The concierge gave her another smile, picked up the receiver of the phone in front of him, and dialed.

'Mr Williams? Robert from reception here. A Ms Weasley has arrived to see you. Shall I send her up? ….Ah very good, yes sir, right away.'

He put down the receiver, walked out from behind his desk, ushered Ginny towards an elevator beyond the fountain, and pressed the button. 'Mr Williams lives on the eighth floor,' he told her when a discreet _ping_ announced the arrival of the elevator.

Ginny stepped into the gilded, thick-carpeted cabin and pressed the button for the eighth floor. The sense of opulence prevailed when she reached her destination. A thick oriental carpet covered the marble floor of the hallway, and genuine oil paintings adorned the walls. In front of her, a dark, tall oak door marked the entrance of Morten's apartment.

Her breath caught; no potions master, no matter how skilled he was, could afford such a splendor from his wages. No, Morten must come from gold. Lots and lots of gold.

She sneered; perhaps he was even better suited to her plans than she'd thought. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she clenched her teeth until her jaw hurt. Who did Harry think he was? No-one would be allowed to bin her like that! It would've been much easier on him had he given in to her seducing him, he genuinely would've enjoyed his time with her, at least at first, before she had set her final plan into motion. Now, however, she would make him suffer, she'd skip right to the second part: stripping Harry of his reputation and as much of his gold as possible. With a good looking, rich husband - albeit number five - on her arm she would have the right leverage to gain access to the circles the Potters moved in, and then -.

She interrupted her irate thoughts, now was not the time for this. She calmed herself and an angelic smile appeared around her lips, just in time with the door opening and interrupting her thoughts.

Morten answered the door himself, a broad smile on his face. 'Ginny! I've missed you.' His arms reached out for her, he pulled her into a tight hug, and the next moment his lips crushed down on hers.

Mmh, he knew how to kiss a woman. Not to mention he was every bit the accomplished lover his fit physique suggested he should be. She was going to enjoy this marriage as long as it lasted.

He pulled her into the entrance hall of his apartment. She caught a glimpse of a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and a marble floor, inlaid with a mosaic made of tiny golden tiles picturing a star, before she was already ushered into a small reception room. Well, small for the standard of this apartment; the room was at least five by six yards. However, an open door on her left side offered a view on another reception room that was more than two times as big, and furnished with huge sofas, glass tables, and at least three crystal chandeliers.

A warm glow spread in her stomach, and she moistened her lips. This grandeur was on the same scale as _Stinchcombe Hall_. Yes, Morten would do nicely.

She stepped towards the windows that overlooked Hyde Park. 'What a fantastic view.'

Morten still was close to her, an arm wrapped around her shoulder. 'It is, isn't it? I never get tired of it.'

A comfortable upholstered leather chair in front of the window with a bar set up next to it in an antique cabin trunk made it believable this was his favourite place.

He pointed towards the bar. 'Why don't you make yourself comfortable, sweetie, while I take a shower? I'm sorry, I just returned from work.' His nose crinkled slightly as he continued, 'We worked with Stinksap today, and I'm afraid I am a little smelly.'

She sniffed slightly and scrunched up her nose a little in a way most man found adorable. Morten was no exception: his eyes softened, and his smile became even broader. 'No problem, sweetheart. Although I have to agree you smell a trifle … ripe.'

He laughed, gave her a peck on the nose, and left for his shower.

Ginny waited until his footsteps had faded away, then turned around and inspected her surroundings more closely. This was a luxurious man cave, there was no doubt about it. The leather armchair in front of the window was complimented by a matching sofa in front of the fireplace, and a huge television screen was mounted over the fireplace.

She pursed her lips at that. From her ten years in the States she knew that American wizards and witches blended in with the Muggle world way better than their British counterparts. The Statute of Secrecy was observed much stricter over there, and each transgression was punished with a hefty fee, if not worse. As a result, the American magical population had learned to blend in seamlessly; they lived among Muggles, and at a first glance their homes didn't look much different than those of their Muggle neighbours, although everything in their houses operated on magic.

R

That was all good and well, however, she'd never got used to that. They weren't like Muggles, so that should reflect in their way of life, shouldn't it? That servile mimicry of the Muggle way of life for reasons of secrecy somehow felt wrong.

Ginny shrugged her shoulders letting the thought fall by the wayside and continued inspecting the room. A huge desk in one corner of the room indicated that Morten actually worked here; it was covered with papers, and the bookcases at the two walls behind the desk contained quite a few ledgers.

Her curiosity got the better of her; and she inched closer to the desk and craned her neck to have a look at the papers. There were a lot of bills, and a couple of vault statements from Gringotts. The numbers on them made her eyes bulge. Perhaps she should reconsider her plans, he was as good a catch as Harry, maybe even better.

A glint of gold among the papers caught her eye. She lifted the papers that obscured the paper with the golden letters from her view, careful, as not to disturb their order, and read.

 _City of Salem_

 _Certificate of Birth_

 _Alexander Dorian Carrington, 01-04-1976_

 _Mother: Elizabeth Suzannah Carrington_

 _Father: Dorian Albion Greengrass_

A door shut somewhere deeper in the apartment, and there was the noise of footsteps on the marble floor.

She let go of the papers as if they were on fire, and tiptoed to the window as fast as possible. Her back to the door, she looked out on Hyde Park, a frown on her face.

Alexander Dorian Carrington - she had heard that name before, but where? And why in the world was his birth certificate on Morten's desk?

 _t.b.c._


	74. Chapter 71

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Another big thank you to Shygui, my fantastic editor, for all the work he puts into my story. Especially this chapter benefitted greatly from his suggestions.

Chapter **70** \- **72** , 13/12/18

* * *

 **71**

 _ **London, May 18th 2008**_

The proximity alarm he'd cast on his desk went off when he was just shrugging in his shirt.

He chuckled to himself at how well he had read her. She was a nosy little bitch, but this was a good thing; he'd known she wouldn't have the decency not to look over his personal papers. It was easy enough to manipulate her, allowing her to find what he wanted her to find in that unsightly mess.

He had just finished buttoning the shirt when the secondary alarm sounded, alerting him to the fact that she had picked some of the papers up. 'Shit!' He'd been a fool to think the vault statement he'd placed so carefully on top of the pile would be enough to satisfy her curiosity; he didn't think there was stuff on his desk that would be incriminating or hard to explain, but he couldn't remember for sure, given he had staged that little display several days ago, even before the promotional party.

This had worked so much better than his original plan which would have relied on luck giving him an opportunity to get Weasley interested in him via a mild Confundus Charm, this would have then allowed him to slip her a mild Love Potion later that night, before taking her to his apartment. Thanks to Potter's accommodating house elf he'd been given an opening to make a move on her without magical intervention, which was even better. It made up for the failure of his impromptu plan to exchange the Muggle lighting gel with ethanol. He scowled; who would've thought that Potter would be able to Summon his wife out of the jet of flame just in time from that distance?

He grinned to himself. There was no doubt Weasley would swallow the bait he'd left, as greedy as she was. Well, he wasn't averse to lashing out for his … pleasure, at least not in case of a high-quality whore like Weasley. Some jewelry would do, it always did, he'd just have to hope that she wouldn't get a chance to delve too deeply into other stuff.

After all, she'd cooperated nicely so far. She'd given in to his Imperius Curse at once, and the information she'd provided about Potter and his whore, though outdated, shed some light on their characters that would be useful for future attacks, not to mention what she had revealed about her regular meetings with Potter whenever he was in the U.S.A.. He cast a look at the hidden safe in his dressing room, and the grin on his face broadened. It had been easy to "persuade" her to part with the evidence she had accumulated, which he was now sure would come in handy one day to discredit the fairy tale couple.

It also had been no problem to Obliviate Weasley afterwards, and they had spent the rest of the night together in a most pleasant way until he left her in the early morning to get some sleep.

Her connection to the Potters through the long friendship between her older brothers to the couple would also be useful, he was sure.

He finished dressing quickly and walked back to his study with loud, deliberate steps.

She stood in front of the window and looked out on Hyde Park when he entered the room. At the sound of his steps she turned around and smiled at him. 'You are right, one never tires of the view.'

He crossed the distance towards her, put his arm around her shoulders, and looked deep into her eyes. 'I think I've found something to look at that fascinates me even more.'

She giggled, a sound that grated on his nerves. Despite that, the smile stayed on his face, thanks to Mother's stern discipline in social customs. Who would've thought he actually would be thanking the old hag for the many times she'd put him under the Torture Curse whenever he dared to show his true feelings in public?

'Flatterer.'

'Not at all.' He bent his head to kiss her. That would shut her up, and at least give him some entertainment.

However, a pecking sound on the window pane interrupted them. He looked up.

A small barn owl perched on the window sill, a letter tied to one leg, and looked at them with beady, black eyes out of its heart-shaped, pale face. He suppressed a shudder and opened the window. The steady unblinking eyes of the bird gave him the creeps.

He held out his hand, however, the bird ignored him and flew right towards Ginny and held its leg out.

Ginny took the letter with a frown. 'I wonder who's writing me at this time of the day.' She gave the owl a tender pat on the head. 'Thank you. I'm sorry, I don't have any owl treats with me.'

The owl gave her a withering look, let out an ear-piercing shriek, and flew out of the window.

He laughed and shut the window. 'I guess we're not its favourite humans right now.'

'I guess you're right.' Her voice sounded distracted. She opened the seal on the letter and read it. The furrow between her brows became deeper by the minute. At length, she lowered the letter and looked up to him. 'I'm so sorry, sweetheart, but I'll have to go. Something with the photo shooting this morning went wrong, and they have to repeat a couple of pictures.' She folded the letter and stuffed it into the small purse she carried over her shoulder on one strap.

He suppressed a cuss word that came unbidden to his lips. That was unfortunate, even though he was sure she'd swallowed the bait, he still needed to haul her in. He put his arms around her and gave her a small peck on the nose. 'I admire your sense of duty, sweetie. Of course you'll have to go. When will I see you again?'

She slung her arms around his neck. 'What about dinner at my place? We'll be quite undisturbed there.' The last words were accompanied by a sultry look.

Perfect. He bent down and gave her a passionate kiss. 'You've got a date, sweetie.'

He walked her to the door, and then returned to his study. His eye fell on the cabin trunk. He still had a couple of hours left before he needed to recast the Imperius Curse on his … permanent guest. However, he needed to do it before he left for _Stinchcombe Hall,_ there was a good chance he'd be spending the night there.

His eyes fell on the mess on his desk. It was so unlike him; he hated chaos. Of course, it had been necessary to trap the girl. He pulled his wand out of his pocket, and with a muttered incantation the scattered papers sorted themselves into neat stacks.

He walked to the desk to put them into their assigned places. His eyes fell onto a single sheet of parchment with golden lettering. The air left his lungs as if a giant's fist had hit him midriff, and a deadly cold spread from his stomach all over his body. Merlin be damned, how did his birth certificate get among the papers he'd laid out so carefully for Ginny? How could he have made such a blunder, he, who prided himself for maintaining his cover for years?

He took a laboured breath. Had she seen it?

A harsh laugh escaped his lips. Of course she had, after all, she'd snooped in his papers and set off the secondary Alarm Charm he'd placed on them that would tell him when she had swallowed the bait.

Would she realise the implications?

He worried his lips with his teeth. Not immediately, that much was sure, she wasn't the brightest chandelier in the room, and like so many other wizards and witches logical thinking was beyond her.

However, there was a big chance she'd blab about what she'd seen, blab about it to the wrong people. Her brother was an Auror, and too many members of her family were very close to the Potters.

He couldn't afford to let his cover been blown like this. He had to do something about her. But what?

He let out a harsh laugh. The answer was obvious, wasn't it?

He'd have to … take care of her and soon.

 _t.b.c._


	75. Chapter 72

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Please, another round of applause to Shygui. You have no idea how much work he puts into this. He is simply amazing.

Chapters **70** \- **72** , 13/12/18

* * *

 **72**

 _ **Lavender's Beauty Parlour, May 18th 2008**_

Daphne let out her maybe fiftieth contented sigh for the morning, her face still pressed into the soft cushion of the table, and wondered again if there was anything better than a full body massage to recover from stress.

Lavender took her hands away. 'I'm finished. Times have been pretty stressful for you lately, huh? You were rather tense.'

Daphne arched herself up like a cat, grateful for the full range of motion in her back and shoulders once more. She gave a couple more twists, stretching out the last kinks, before she got up and wrapped herself into a lavender coloured terry cloth bathrobe. 'Well, I've had a lot of work lately, what with Harry being on the Continent, and then we had the Crystal Fairy promotional party.'

'Yes, I imagine,' Lavender said. '... and then there's Ginny.'

Daphne bit her lip and averted her eyes without answering. She wasn't going to discuss Ginny Weasley with Lavender: she hadn't been called the Queen of Gossip at Hogwarts because she was known for her discretion. Her beauty parlour was frequented by almost all the young, affluent witches of their generation, and it had garnered an excellent reputation for the beauty treatment she and Parvati offered, but was also notorious for being magical Britain's headquarters for all gossip.

She followed Lavender into the relaxation room, laid down on one of the lavish daybeds, and closed her eyes. The soothing fragrance of lavender and thyme wafted over her: in the interim as she willed herself to keep relaxing, Lavender had put a cup of tea on the small table beside her, and left the room. She opened her eyes, picked up the cup, and took a tentative sip of the hot beverage. Mmmh, delicious; Lavender had obviously remembered how she took her tea and put a spoonful of honey into it.

She let her eyes wander through the sparsely, yet tastefully decorated room whilst she sipped her tea and allowed its warmth to sooth her insides. Lavender's Beauty Parlour had become an oasis for stressed out women, be it from the demands of raising energetic toddlers, or working long hours as a career witch: they all found their way here. She really ought to take the time to visit more frequently; Harry wouldn't mind …

Harry! A big smile appeared on her face she couldn't - no, wouldn't - hide. Ever since their talk after Nicholas Greco had left yesterday morning she'd walked around like she was on cloud nine. Even though he still hadn't said those three magical words, he had as good as admitted that he loved her.

' _You are the most important person in my life, Daphne. I couldn't go on without you.'_

Really, it hadn't been so much what he'd said, no, it had all been in the way he'd looked at her. There had been a time when she'd thought she'd be happy if he looked at her the way he'd looked at the red headed Weaselette. Not anymore. The uncritical, blind adoration that had been in his eyes whenever he looked at the tart couldn't hold a candle to the deep trust, steady warmth and unwavering loyalty she had seen when he'd looked at her - and there had been more, something she couldn't decipher, something that had made her heart start somersaulting.

Still, couldn't he have come clean right away? She let out a small, annoyed sigh and her smile became rueful. By now and after all those years he should have realised what he felt for her. A small laugh escaped her lips, and she shook her head. Of course he wouldn't; he was still such an infuriatingly slow prat at times, though to be fair, he still somewhat carried the damage inflicted on him by those Muggles. Yet, like he'd said when he carried her into the grotto, he was _her_ prat, hers alone.

The big smile returned to her face. Even better, he'd been hers right from the beginning, even if she didn't know it: he'd chosen her over the Weaselette. True, he hadn't been in love with her back then, they still had had to learn how to become friends. However, he'd dedicated himself to her and their marriage, and they had grown together over everything that had happened to them during all these years, the good things as well as the bad. If only she had known all those years ago, it would have spared her quite a few sleepless nights. Still, she knew now, and there was no chance for the Weaselette to get between them, not anymore; that ship had sailed a long time ago, on a cold, wet Christmas Day on an agricultural road in the middle of soggy fields.

She put the empty cup back on the small table beside the daybed, closed her eyes once more and leaned back in the cushions, and basked in the glory of that special memory from so long ago.

'You look awfully smug,' an annoying familiar voice shattered her daydream and pulled her from her thoughts.

Daphne startled; her neck stiffened. Pansy, of all people. She could've done without her, Pansy was almost as big a gossip as Lavender, and most likely would try to sound her out about Harry's supposedly rekindled affair with the Weaselette. Thanks to Skeeter that was the general impression the magical public had.

She took a breath to center herself, forced her face into a bland mask, and opened her eyes. 'How do you do, Pansy? We haven't seen each other for ages.'

Pansy bent down to her, and they exchanged the air-kisses that were socially accepted custom between old roommates.

'Silly, we saw each other at your party on Saturday,' Pansy said and straightened. She settled down on the daybed next to Daphne. 'Of course, I understand that your attention was totally engaged elsewhere, wasn't it? You poor thing, I really felt for you when your husband went gallivanting off with that tart.'

Daphne raised an expertly manicured eyebrow at her. 'You seem to know more than I do. The tart, as you call the current face of our magical division, is an employee of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products, and Saturday's party was in actual fact a business appointment for her, Harry and myself, or did you miss that part on the invitation? Harry walked her around and introduced her to the press and the influential people, as was his job for the evening.'

The simper that had infuriated her during their school days had already appeared on Pansy's face. 'Of course, sweetie, whatever makes you sleep at night. Remember, Mrs Potter, I too know how the game is played, and whilst I can respect that you want to keep your dignity intact, you can't fool me.' She sniffed. 'If, however, you ever need a shoulder to cry on, I'm there for you. Really, how could he? First that offense at the ball, and today -' She interrupted herself and all of a sudden seemed to be busy with examining her finger nails.

A small pang jolted through Daphne, but she didn't let it show. Today? What had the Weaselette done now? However, she wouldn't give Pansy the satisfaction and ask her. Did she really think her that dumb that she wouldn't see right through her concerned-friend-act? Obviously, given the covert, malicious side glances she cast at her when she thought she wasn't looking. Well, Pansy had never been the sharpest knife in the drawer, even though she was unfortunately almost as good as she was at playing power games. What a pity for Pansy, however, that she was still a tad better.

She gave an indifferent shrug, leaned back into the cushions and closed her eyes. 'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'Of course you don't, poor baby.'

Daphne didn't answer. The soft rustle of cushions and blankets next to her indicated that Pansy was shifting in her seat. How long would it take until she broke?

More shifting and rustling of blankets. Daphne suppressed a gleeful grin. Patience had never been Pansy's strongest point. Five minutes, at the most, and she would break.

Pansy didn't even last another two. 'I saw Harry today.'

'Hm-hm?' she hummed, her eyes still closed. That would vex Pansy to no end.

'He had lunch.'

Daphne's mouth curled into a wry smile; she opened one eye and looked at Pansy. 'Well, even the Chosen One needs to eat now and then, he doesn't run on magic alone, you know.' She closed her eye again.

'He wasn't alone'

Ah, so now they were coming to the interesting part. Her stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. She suppressed a groan. She'd made it through today so far without another bout of the awful nausea that had plagued her ever since the day of Veterans Ball. Oh no, not again, and not now. Whatever was wrong with her, she couldn't afford to be distracted by that right now. Pansy could smell weakness like a shark tracked blood in the water.

She raised her hand and pushed a strand of hair out of her face, her eyes still closed. That gave her stomach the time it needed to settle down before she answered in a slightly condescending tone. 'Pansy, Harry is hardly ever alone. He is after all a very busy man.'

That apparently gave Pansy the opening she was waiting for. 'Very busy, indeed,' she said with an exaggerated giggle. 'The Weaselette was with him, and they seemed awfully focussed on each other.'

She'd expected something like that. Again, her stomach quivered, and she took a deep breath to center herself. Any weakness in front of Pansy would be potentially disastrous. There was no need for her to freak out, either, not after the talk she and Harry had had yesterday, he loved her, she knew that in her heart.

She opened her eyes and gave Pansy another wry smile. 'Well, I'd hope so. I already told you, the Weaselette is our newest model. She had her first photo shooting for us today. Harry had business in that part of London, too, and he'll have stopped by to make sure everything went alright. The gentleman he is, he most likely took her out for lunch afterwards. They are still friends, after all.'

Pansy gave her a look as if she had taken away her favourite toy. 'You knew about this?'

Daphne laughed a little. 'Of course I did, silly. Did you think he's keeping his meetings with the Weaselette a secret from me? Why should he?'

Pansy it appeared didn't have an answer to that, and Daphne closed her eyes again, mentally chalking up another point for herself in their ongoing bitchy war. For the time being her obnoxious former roommate was under control, and she was free to focus on more important problems.

There was no way Harry had sought out the tart himself - unless it was to tell her to keep her distance from him. Daphne scrunched up her nose slightly; that was rather unlikely. No matter how much she loved Harry, she wasn't blind to his faults. He'd have issues telling someone he still considered a friend to stay away from him, not to mention that their close friendship with Ron, Bill and their wives would complicate things even more - and that wasn't even considering what Molly would say.

No, he wouldn't have instigated a lunch date with the Weaselette. It was more likely the other way round. It seemed her warning at the Veterans Ball hadn't curtailed the Weaselette for long; she was still stalking Harry. She suppressed another sigh; this had to come to an end, the stupid wench was now interrupting her relaxation time, too.

She scrunched up her nose again and came to a decision. There was only one solution to that dilemma: she had to take matters into her own hands.

* * *

 _ **The Rectory, May 18th 2008**_

She still hadn't completely decided what she was going to do about the Weaselette when she Apparated back to _The Rectory_ a couple of hours later, sporting a new haircut with stylish new highlights, and her face artfully and tastefully made up with the best Crystal Fairy products on offer. The lavender-scented, gossip-heavy atmosphere of the beauty parlour wasn't at all helpful when it came to plotting.

As she entered the house Matty _popped_ in and took her light cloak.

'Is Master Harry home yet?'

Matty shook her head. 'Master still bes at work, Mistress Daffy. Can Matty bring Mistress Daffy some tea?'

She smiled at the elf, 'Thanks, but I'll have tea later, with Harry. I'll just go up to our room and change. After a day in the city laying down, I feel like stretching my legs. If Harry returns while I'm away, tell him I've taken a short stroll around the gardens and parklands.'

She walked purposefully to their bedroom and changed the robes she'd been wearing for her visit in Diagon Alley for faded jeans, a plaid shirt and a pair of comfortable hiking boots more appropriate for a walk in the countryside where she might happen to meet Muggles.

Five minutes later she found herself walking along a well-maintained hiking trail that circled the small village that she and Harry lived on the outskirts of. She never got tired of the view on the picturesque village in the tree lined hollow.

Her eyes wandered towards an imposing building near the top of one of the other hills surrounding the valley, and in easy walking distance from _The Rectory._

 _Stinchcombe Hall._

Whilst it was not the ancestral Potter seat, it was the most grandiose of the houses Harry had inherited from his grandfather. Fleamont Potter had bought the formidable house to be nearer to his best friend, whilst also harbouring the hopes of a future connection between their families by the marriage of their children yet to be born.

She gave a wry smile. His plans hadn't worked out as he had hoped for that first generation; he'd had his wish fulfilled with the next, however. She frowned at the house in question: and now the Weaselette had rented that house from Harry's estate. Harry had told her that little tidbit of news yesterday. Daphne made a face at the thought; the Weaselette was welcomed to that monstrosity, how anyone could voluntarily live in that personification of opulence was beyond her. She and Harry had previously used the house only for receptions that were too big to be held at _The Rectory,_ and rented it out whenever the opportunity arose.

Lost in her thoughts, she had reached the ha-ha, a retaining moat that separated the parklands of _Stinchcombe Hall_ from the adjoining pastures. She ambled along the path that followed the ha-ha on the outside and let her gardener's eye swerve over the park, in search of things she should talk about with the head garden elf.

When she came to one of three small turrets Fleamont had built into the ha-ha so that he could cross the ha-ha to the meandering path that led to _The Rectory_ and visit his friend, she mounted the stairs: its arched windows offered a beautiful view across the hollow and onto the village below, perfect for contemplation.

The turret unfortunately wasn't empty: the Weaselette sat on the inbuilt stone bench. Her face was turned away from Daphne, and she was so focussed on her own thoughts that she didn't seem to have noticed her approach or heard her footsteps on the wide stone stairs.

Heat flashed through Daphne's body, and her nostrils flared. This was an opportunity too good to let pass; the bitch wasn't aware of the danger she was in. She'd show her once and for all why it was a big mistake to make a move on Daphne Potter's husband!

Her wand was in her hand in the blink of an eye. Two quick silent spells later and the Weaselette was disarmed and petrified.

Daphne strode from the entrance of the turret. The Weaselette had fallen from the bench when the Full Bodybind Curse hit her, and now looked up at her with flashing eyes.

Daphne shivered. If looks could ignite someone, she'd be a human torch right now.

Once again she pointed her wand at the Weaselette, cast a silent Levitation Charm, and directed the bitch out of the turret with the help of her wand, accidently bumping her into a wall or two on the way down. When she was finally outside, she smirked down at the still glaring woman.

'You and I, my dear, are going to have a long overdue girl-talk right now, I just won't take no for an answer.' With another flick of her wand, she directed the petrified witch along the path that led up to the house. She definitely didn't need any witnesses for what would follow.

 _t.b.c._


	76. Chapter 73

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Today at the bottom.

Chapter **73** , 20/12/18

* * *

 **73**

 _ **London, May 18th 2008**_

From his unexpected and, quite frankly, annoying lunch with Ginny, Harry Apparated straight to the Apparition Point in the magical section of the headquarters of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products. He holed himself up in the office he still shared with Daphne, which seemed to be unnatural quiet and empty without her, under the pretext to review the meeting he'd had that morning.

Truth be told, he didn't get much work done that afternoon. He tried to concentrate on the papers in front of him, he really did; however, the talk he'd had with Ginny pushed itself to the fore unbidden over and over again.

' _There's no way you care for Greengrass, since you're already in love with me.'_

' _Sirius said you are just like your father, you were also going to fall in love with a redhead at a very young age. And that's what you did; you fell in love with me.'_

He threw his fountain pen onto the blotter in frustration. What a load of rubbish! History wouldn't repeat itself just because he looked very much like his father and his first steady girlfriend happened to be a redhead somewhat like his mother. What was it with this talk about love, anyway? How was he supposed to know if he loved someone when he had grown up without knowing love in his life? True, his parents had loved him, and probably Sirius, too, but they all had left him before he had built up any substantial memories of their love for him.

And then there was bloody Dumbledore. He who had always gone on and on about his great capacity to love and that it was the power Voldemort didn't possess. That was a steaming pile of sparkly Unicorn turds; in the end it was his willingness to let himself get killed by the bastard in order to destroy the Horcrux in him that had determined Voldemort's fate. It sure as hell hadn't been done out of any feeling of love as far as he could tell; hell, even now he couldn't really say why he had walked out into the forest, other than knowing it was the only way that would ensure that Voldemort could be killed?

He spun his chair and looked out through the window on to London. His religious instruction at primary school had been sparse, and the Dursleys hadn't shown any interest in religion at all, however, he remembered vaguely the story about Jesus dying out of love, being willing to take on the sins of mankind, _so that everyone exercising faith in him might not be destroyed but have everlasting life._ Funny how much the human brain remembered, the words from the Bible popped up in his head without even trying to remember them.

According to Dumbledore, he also had been willing to sacrifice his life in order to save the wizarding world, which the old codger cited as proof for his great capacity of love. A kind of magical Jesus, so to speak.

He let out a harsh bark of a laugh. What a load of Hippogriff shit! He wasn't an incarnation of Jesus, there wasn't anything godly or even remotely saintly about him. Truth be told, Dumbledore's reading of the events made him nauseous. Next thing he knew, some misguided wizard would put all the facts together and conclude his near-death experience in the Forbidden Forest was close enough to returning from the dead like, well, Jesus, and the sheep-like, non critical thinking magical population would hail him as their new messiah.

Ugh, hell no, he didn't need _that._ The adoration for his person was already bad enough as it was. Besides, love for his fellow wizards and witches had been the last thing on his mind when he made the decision to face Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest. It simply had gone on too long, there had been too many victims, he had been tired, emotionally spent, and he just wanted it to end. Someone had to end it, and it was by some cruel joke of fate that he had the means to facilitate the end game by letting himself be killed - _for the Greater Good_. How fortunate he had no family that would miss him …

The _Renouvellement_ Potion had forced him to live through this moment again, forced him to examine his own motivations, and also forced him to analyse Dumbledore's role in this development. He'd come to the conclusion that he'd been set up as a sacrificial lamb by Dumbledore from his early childhood on, and that his failure to check in on him and even actively to overlook the signs of neglect he bore when he came to Hogwarts were all part of the plan _for the Greater Good._ Dumbledore had almost ensured that he had no sense of self-worth, he'd thought he was expendable, and that had driven him into the forest; love hadn't even entered the equation.

What an utterly contemptible thing to do to a helpless, unloved child, who grew up to be a young man without an ounce of love in his body for himself.

That discovery had almost sent him over the edge and into that very inviting, gaping black void, for as far as he could tell he had nothing left to live for … until he had heard her voice. She had pulled him back from the edge, she had kept him from falling into the abyss.

A smile crept across his face. Without Daphne, he would be dead by now. He owed her so much, his life, his mental and physical health. Furthermore, somehow she complimented him; among the other things she had taught him was how to reign in his temper; she'd been with him every step of the way to him becoming his own man, first during their studies, later when he became a member of the Wizengamot, and finally when he'd had to take up the mantle at Crystal Fairy's at far too young an age. Somewhere along the way she'd taught him to care for himself, to realise he was actually worth something. She was his strongest supporter, sounding board and critic. His days were packed, he worked long hours and had more responsibilities than he'd ever thought would befall him, however, together with Daphne it was all manageable and bearable.

His relationship with Daphne was the polar opposite to what he'd had with Ginny, the relationships almost couldn't be compared at all. He'd been another person back then, a teenager with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Ginny had been a welcomed escape from the nightmare his life was; they'd spent most of their time together at Hogwarts joined at the lips. He laughed and shook his head; of course, that had been his teenage hormones speaking, and despite of the danger he'd been in, he'd still been a hormone ridden teenager when he looked at Ginny's dot on the Marauder's Map while he was on the run and missed the comfort her kisses gave him. They'd picked right back up at the same stage after the war, and never progressed from there.

In stark comparison, whilst he and Daphne shared a fantastic physical relationship, they weren't limited to that, thank Merlin. He loved being with her; working together, the long talks they had about anything that came to their minds, visiting with friends together, doing simple things in the house and garden with her, or just cuddling together in front of the fireplace.

He _loved_ being with her _…_

Such a momentous word, yet so easily said.

His heart missed a beat, then pounded against his ribcage as if he'd just ran a mile, and his skin tingled all over his body. He sat straight and very still for a long time, his eyes wide.

If he loved being with Daphne, did that also mean he loved her?

At last, a groan escaped his mouth; he propped his elbows on the flat of the desk and buried his face in the palms of his hands.

Merlin, he was the biggest idiot that had ever walked on this earth, wasn't he? He'd been ignoring the obvious for years. Of course he loved her; he had no idea when it had started, maybe the day she'd offered him divorce for the first time because she thought being with her made him unhappy?

And Daphne … She'd had the patience of a saint, that much was sure. It was a miracle she'd put up with him, as oblivious and uncaringly as he had treated her. There was no doubt she reciprocated his feelings, otherwise she'd have turned her back on him gladly as soon as the first opportunity presented itself after Cyrus' death.

He pulled his hands from his face and pressed his mouth into a determined line. He might have been oblivious in the past, but there was no excuse for him to carry on like this.

He picked up the receiver of the phone on his desk and pressed the button for the front office.

'Lisa? I'm calling it a day, alright? Bye.'

He put back the receiver without waiting for her reply and got up. He had to force himself to walk to the Apparition Point in an acceptable pace, instead of running home as fast as possible.

Not even a minute later, Matty opened the door as he walked towards the house. His heart beat in his chest like a drum. How would Daphne react when he told her of his feelings? Would she be delighted, or angry at him because he'd never told her of his feelings for her and she'd resigned herself to never knowing if he loved her? Well, he would certainly deserve her anger.

'Evening, Matty. Where's Daphne?'

'Mistress Daphne said she bes on a short stroll and bes back soon.'

His breath hitched, and his heart seemed to shrink in his chest. He looked to the ground, bit his lips, and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. What did he expect? He'd needed ten years for the realisation he loved his wife, she surely wasn't waiting for him breathlessly to declare his feelings for her. She'd probably given up on that daydream a long time ago …

He picked up his briefcase and walked up to their room to get changed. Clad in comfortable jeans and a knitted sweater, he walked down to the family room a couple of minutes later.

His eyes searched the room, but Daphne wasn't back yet, and his face fell. He flopped down onto the sofa and picked up the _Daily Prophet_ to distract himself. Even though the _Sunday Prophet_ had already covered the promotion party with a long article, the _Daily Prophet_ had to offer their two knuts worth in a slightly shorter article, written by Rita Skeeter, in its Monday edition. As expected, Rita once again alluded to his supposed affair with Ginny in that article and made a big deal out of the fact he'd escorted Ginny around the garden after the presentation and introduced her to a couple of people.

Harry put down the newspaper with a swear word that would have got him into trouble with Daphne, if she were here. Had she seen the article? Most likely. Great, just what she needed on top of her not being well for the past two weeks. At least she'd seemed to believe him when he'd told her yesterday that Ginny had never been a danger to their marriage and would never be.

The sound of the back door being yanked open startled him out of his thoughts. He sat up straight and turned his head.

Daphne rushed into the room from the back hallway, her face flushed, and an irritated sparkle in her eyes. The second her eyes fell on him, the sparkle disappeared and gave way to a genuine smile.

'Harry! You're home early today.' She flopped down onto the sofa next to him and kissed his cheek.

He put his arm around her shoulder and leaned towards her to give her a proper kiss. 'You smell fantastic, and you look even better. New haircut?' he asked when he pulled back.

The colour of her cheeks intensified. 'Do you like it?' She gave one lock a flirtatious tug and winked at him. 'Thanks for the compliment. Are you trying to soften me up for something?'

'Can't a guy tell his wife she's looking great without being accused of having a hidden agenda?' He gave her a mock-scowl. 'Though, you're right, there's something I have to tell you.'

Daphne let out a snort. 'I knew it!' She kicked off her shoes, pulled her legs up onto the sofa, and snuggled against him. 'However, if you're alluding to your clandestine lunch with Ginny, I already know about that.'

He gasped for breath and pulled away to look at her. Was she angry at him? It was hard to tell, although she smiled at him, the irritated sparkle was back in her eyes. 'You know already? How?'

'Pansy,' she said, and rolled her eyes.

Harry gave a mirthless snort. 'I should've known that. That woman is worse than Skeeter. I never saw her; makes me wonder if she's also a beetle animagus.'

A slight frown appeared on Daphne's face. 'According to Pansy, you and Ginny were rather focussed on each other. That would explain why you didn't notice her, wouldn't it?'

Uh oh, this was definitely heading in the wrong direction. He'd better tell her the gist of his talk to Ginny right now, or she'd get the wrong impression.

'I ran into Ginny on my way from the Chamber of Commerce back to headquarters. She said she'd had a photo shoot for the company somewhere around there. Well, you know how she's behaved towards me whenever I met her during the last two weeks. Today was no exception, so I thought I'd better tell her in no uncertain terms that I'm not interested.' He made a face, which elicited an amused smile from Daphne. Good, as long as she saw the humour in his situation, she wasn't inclined to become angry at him.

'I got us some take-out, and we sat down on a bench in a small park. It was the most public spot I could think of. As handsy as she was, I didn't want to be alone with her anywhere.'

His wife actually snorted at that, and he gave her a mock-glare. 'Stop laughing at me. She was worse than the Giant Squid, her bloody tentacles were always clutching at me. She asked why I was so distant, and I pointed out to her that I'm married to you and actually care about you and our marriage. That caused her to break out into laughter.'

Daphne's eyebrows rose up at that. 'Why's that?'

He huffed. 'Apparently, because of some idiotic thoughts Sirius shared with her after he'd had too much Firewhisky. Remember how I told you that my father fell in love with my mother around his third year?'

She nodded to that. 'What's got that to do with you?' The next second, she gasped, and her face lit up in understanding. 'I get it. You look very much like your father, and your mother was a redhead, too -'

'Yes, and add to that Sirius' wish to turn back time, and the legend about Potter men falling for redheads only at a very young age and being in love only once in their life is born.' He finished the sentence for her.

Daphne gaped at him. 'You're taking the mickey.'

'I wish I was.' He sighed. 'Ginny seemed to believe every word of it; she told me I couldn't be in love with you because I was already in love with her and would always be.'

The colour in Daphne's cheeks intensified even more, and she gave him a strange look. 'I wonder what you answered to that.'

He pulled her closer towards him and dropped a kiss in her hair. 'I told her that not only am I not my father's clone, but, believe it or not, I'm my own person, thank you very much, and that you and I have a very good marriage based on mutual trust and affection. That was when she tried to feed me the dragon dung about her four marriages having been unsuccessful attempts to get over me.'

Daphne averted her eyes. 'I see,' she said in a low voice, and stiffened slightly in his arm.

His stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. He had to come to an end about Ginny and assure Daphne about his feelings. 'To make a long story short, I told her to cut the crap because I knew about her ongoing affair with her Italian stallion.'

She looked up at him sharply and a faint grin appeared around Daphne's mouth as his words sank in. He responded with a wink and put both of his arms around her. 'She got angry and blamed me for having put her in danger when I left on the hunt for the dark twat's Horcruxes. That brought us to the interesting part; she finally all but admitted that she'd never been interested in me; all she wanted was the Boy-Who-Lived, and the fame and the gold.' He shrugged his shoulders. 'I left after that. I guess there's a small hope she'll have actually caught the message.'

Daphne let out a sigh. 'That would be too good to be true. She's really becoming annoying.'

He took her chin between his fingers and turned her head until she was forced to look him in the eyes. 'She might be annoying, darling, but I can promise you that she'll never come between us. You mean too much to me.' His heartbeat seemed to stop, and the next second his heart crashed against his ribcage like a sledgehammer. The palms of his hands became moist. It was now or never; sweet Merlin, how would she take it?

'It probably sounds weird coming from me after all these years, but … I love you, Daphne, and I'll do everything to ensure that Ginny will never again hurt you like she did at Veterans Ball.'

Daphne became very still. Her eyes grew wide, and her mouth opened into a silent "oh". There was a long silence, while she looked at him in a way that left him breathless.

Could she hear his heartbeat? His heart hammered against his chest as if it was trying to break through his ribs and pound its way out of his body, all while he waited for her reply, to say something, anything ...

'Do you have an idea how long I've waited for you to say these words?' she said at length.

The hammering of his heart stopped, and it seemed to plummet into the deepest pit of his stomach. Heat shot into his face; he lowered his head and bit on his lips. She had every right to be annoyed with him, he was such an insensitive bastard.

The next moment she snuggled against his chest with a contented sigh. 'I know how you grew up, honey, so I told myself to give you the time you needed to learn to know your own feelings. Merlin, I never would've thought you'd need this long!'

His breath caught, and his heart seemed to soar up to his throat and take residence there. Did that mean -?

She tilted her head back and looked into his eyes. 'I kept telling myself you didn't need to, that it was obvious by the way you treated me, and yet there was always that tiny sliver of doubt in my heart, that maybe you didn't and I was deluding myself.' Her eyes became dark, her mouth quivered as if she was biting back tears, and she lowered her head.

Oh Merlin, what had he done to her? How could he have treated the most wonderful woman in the world like taken for granted? He pulled her into a tight hug. 'I'm so sorry, darling. I'm the most insensitive and slowest prat in the world,' he said in a hoarse voice.

Again, Daphne tilted her head back and looked at him; the light in her eyes almost blinded him. The corners of her mouth turned up in a small smile, and her arms sneaked around his neck. 'Yes … Yes you are, honey. However, as you so accurately pointed out during the Veterans Ball, you are my prat, and I don't want you any other way. I happen to love you just the way you are, infuriatingly slow on the uptake, messy hair, beautiful green eyes, a man of vision and compassion, a man I love and have loved for a very long time and most importantly a man who I finally know for sure is all mine!'

 _t.b.c._

* * *

I'm going to leave you on this happy note for Christmas, because I don't want to hear your screams over the holidays when I close in for the kill. ;)

The story will be continued on 28-02-2019. I have 90 finished chapters so far, and I hope I'll finish the remaining chapters until the end of the year, although there is still quite a lot to cover and a lot of loose ends to tie. I've agreed with Shygui that he's not going to start to edit again before I've muddled my way through the plot. Someone has to pick up possible inconsistencies, and so he'd better read everything with an open mind.

That brings me to the most important thing of all:

 **A big round of applause for Shygui, please!**

This story is in the making for almost one year by now, and Shygui was involved right from the beginning. The work and dedication he puts into this story is more than anyone can rightfully expect, and I can't say it often enough: he is absolutely amazing and has added more to this story than he realises. Thank you from the bottom of my heart!

I hope you all enjoy wonderful holidays. Look out for a little sweet from me on the 24th, the traditional day to exchange gifts here in Germany.


	77. Chapter 74

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** I'm back! :) The good news is I'll be able to post new chapters on this story once a week until the end of April. The bad news is that I've hit a massive writer's block with this one and can't promise you I won't have to take another break in May to deliver new chapters. In the meantime I'm concentrating on my other stories to get back in the mood for this one.

Many, many thanks to my fantastic editor shygui who sticks with me through this word-avalanche for more than a year now. You are simply the best, my friend!

Chapter **74** , 27-02-2019

* * *

 **74**

 _ **The Rectory, May 19th 2008**_

Waking up with his wife in his arms was close to heaven on earth. Harry buried his nose into the soft locks under his chin, inhaled the spicy scent he'd grown to love, his eyes still closed and not yet ready to let go of this delicious state of floating between sleep and wakefulness. He tightened his arms around Daphne and pulled her closer.

She reacted with a content sigh in her sleep and buried her head deeper in his chest.

A broad smile appeared on Harry's face. It had been there ever since he'd confessed his feelings to Daphne yesterday. Thank Merlin, she had, as ever, been much too understanding and ready to forgive his asinine cluelessness of gigantic proportions. Why she still put up with him was beyond him, but he as sure as hell wouldn't complain.

A soft buzzing on his bedside table interrupted his thoughts. He frowned. Who was calling him at this early hour?

He rolled onto his back, careful as not to wake up Daphne. Merlin knew she still looked much too pale, with black smudges beneath her eyes and in need of her rest.

She gave a moan of protest and followed the warmth of his body until she lay sprawled over his chest, still wrapped in her bubble of sleep.

Harry dropped a kiss into her hair and reached a groping arm out for his mobile, cursing under his breath as he pushed it around a couple of times on the flat of his bedside table before at last getting hold of it. He flipped the ingenious, nevertheless annoying Muggle contraption open and held it to his ear.

'Potter.'

'Good morning, Harry, it's Lisa. Where are you? You do know you were supposed to be in a meeting ten minutes ago, right?'

Harry squinted at the old-fashioned mechanical brass alarm clock on his bedside table. The clock was silent. Damn, he'd forgotten to wind it up last night, he and Daphne had had too many other things on their minds, and had promptly overslept this morning.

Heat shot into his face. At least the dratted mobile didn't come with an automatic video camera, so Lisa couldn't see him and Daphne right now.

'Have you overslept?'

There was an unmistakable grin in her voice, no doubt she knew he was still in his bed. She'd probably excelled at Divination. He made a face at the mobile. 'Yeah.' There was no use in denying it.

Daphne stirred in her sleep and muttered something unintelligible. He looked down onto her golden head. Truth be told, he didn't feel like jumping out of bed, hurrying to headquarters and making it somehow through another long day. Not today, not after his momentous discovery that he loved Daphne and had actually loved her for years. They needed some time for themselves right now, he needed to explore this discovery for a while. He made his decision in a split-second. What good was it to be your own boss if you couldn't skive off once in a while?

'Listen, Lisa,' he said, trying to keep his voice as soft as he could. 'Daphne isn't feeling well. I'm going to take her to see a healer this morning; I don't trust her to keep her promise and see one. So, please clear our schedules for today and for the rest of the week. Daphne needs some time out, and I'm going to make sure she'll rest, even if that means I'll have to stick her to the sofa with a Sticking Charm.'

Lisa let out a low chuckle. 'Good luck with that, Harry. You know even better than me how stubborn that woman can get. Though I agree, it's time she sees a healer; she's been wearing Glamour Charms and hasn't been eating properly the last two weeks, that's not like her. Give her my love, will you? Bye.'

'Bye, Lisa, and thank you.'

He ended the call, put the mobile back on the bedside table, and his arm once again around his wife. No need to wake her up just yet, there would be time enough to take her to St. Mungo's later in the day. He closed his eyes, revelling in the warmth of Daphne's body close to his, and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

'Mistress Daffy, Master Harry!'

A tiny hand grabbed his shoulder, shook it and Harry's eyes shot open. There was a sound of urgency in Matty's voice that had him fully awake and alert at once. He turned his head to the elf next to his bed, a frown on his face. 'What is it, Matty?'

Daphne, still sprawled across his chest, stirred and raised her head. 'Whassit?' Her voice sounded hoarse and groggy, and her blinking eyes were still hazy with sleep.

Matty wrung her small hands. 'Master Director McLean bes waiting in the living room. Matty tries send him away. Master Director McLean says he need see Mistress Daffy and Master Harry. Master Director McLean says he not bes go away before Mistress Daffy and Master Harry come down.'

Harry exchanged a look with his wife. The sleep left her eyes, and a deep frown appeared on her face. 'What by Merlin's hairy balls does he want this early in the morning?'

The corners of Harry's mouth twitched, despite his irritation about the rude awakening. 'Tsk, tsk, language, Mrs Potter. I have no idea what he wants, darling. Besides, it isn't that early anymore. We overslept.'

'We what?' She gasped and pushed herself off his chest. The next moment she swung her legs out of the bed and sprung up, only to sway and to grab onto the bedpost to keep herself from falling.

'Daphne!' Harry sprang out of the bed, almost colliding with Matty, ran towards her, and caught her in his arms. 'Whatever McLean wants, he can wait. I'm going to take you to a healer right now.'

His heart hammered in his chest as he looked into her pale face. She had her eyes closed and took a couple of dry gulps as if she was trying to fight back nausea. Her breathing was shallow, and her skin felt clammy against his. Forget McLean and his bad timing, he could come back another time.

Daphne let out a deep breath, opened her eyes, and looked at him. 'Thanks, honey; I'm better. It was just a bout of dizziness. I got up too fast, I suppose. Give me another minute, and I'll be ready to see McLean.'

He tightened his grip around her and almost hissed out. 'I don't give a damn about McLean; I'm going to take you to St Mungo's right now, Daph. This has gone on for too long, you -'

She put a finger on his lips and silenced him. 'I'm alright, darling. It's nothing. Though I promise to go to St Mungo's - _after_ we've dealt with McLean and whatever it is he wants.' The tone of her voice was final.

Harry suppressed a sigh and rolled his eyes. Why in the world did she have to be that stubborn? He tried yet another time, trying not to show his frustration with her and her repeated refusals to see a healer. 'No, darling, just hell, no -'

She shut him up with a glare that reminded him of Cyrus. ' _After_ McLean, Harry.' She extricated herself from his arms and vanished into the bathroom.

He huffed. 'Fine, have it your way. Don't come complaining to me if you collapse yet another time.'

'I won't,' came her muffled reply through the closed door.

There was nothing to add; with a silent cuss word on his lips he turned towards his walk-in wardrobe and got dressed into jeans and a plaid shirt to meet McLean.

* * *

They stopped at the threshold and he exchanged a puzzled look with Daphne.

McLean was pacing the living room like a tiger in a cage. His hand ran through his hair over and over again, messing it up, and he muttered to himself in a low voice.

What had got into the man? As the Director of the Department for Public Relations and Advertisement McLean was used to dealing with emergencies; Harry's fame as the Chosen One and his political ambitions had given him a lot of practise over the last ten years. As a rule, there was very little that could throw the experienced man into a loop, and he couldn't remember the last time he had seen him that agitated.

The worry in Daphne's dark eyes matched his own foreboding. She took his hand, and together they stepped into the room.

'Good morning, Director McLean. What has you so agitated?' Daphne asked.

McLean whirled around, his hand still clutched in his hair. At the sight of them standing in the room he let out a deep breath, and his hand fell to his side.

'Mrs Potter, Mr Potter… good morning… This is a disaster… I still can't fathom… I don't know where to begin -'

'What about at the start?' Harry cut him off and motioned him with his hand to sit down in one of the chairs.

McLean let out another deep breath and plopped into the next chair.

Daphne and Harry sat down next to each other on the sofa opposite to McLean. Harry's stomach coiled itself into a tight knot. Whatever McLean had on his mind, it wasn't good.

McLeans hands gripped the armrests of his chair, knuckles whitening, his grip on the arms tight as if he had to prevent himself from jumping up and pacing the room once again. He took a deep breath. 'Ms Weasley was scheduled for another photo shoot this morning. I had assigned Patterson to supervise the shoot. About ten minutes after the supposed beginning of the photo shoot I got a Patronus messenger from him, telling me that Ms Weasley hadn't turned up. As you can imagine, I was furious about this lack of discipline. I sent my Patronus to Ms Weasley and demanded that she uphold her contracted obligations and turn up immediately.'

He'd run out of breath, interrupted himself and took another deep breath. 'I got no response, but wasn't really expecting one if I am honest, I assumed she would turn up with some excuse and that would be that. Twenty minutes later I got the next Patronus from Patterson: she hadn't turned up yet. I decided to take matters into my own hands and Apparated to Ms Weasley's residence.'

Thick beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. 'I don't know if you know where she lives -'

'I've been informed that Ms Weasley rents _Stinchcombe Hall_ from the Potter estate,' Harry said.

McLean let out a relieved sigh. 'Good. Well, one of the elves opened the door. Apparently, none of your elves had seen Ms Weasley since yesterday late afternoon. She'd given orders to leave a cold dinner for two under Stasis Charms in the dining room and told the elves to make themselves scarce until she'd call them again.'

Harry's stomach churned; the sense of foreboding intensified. Daphne's hand stole into his; it was as clammy as his own hand.

'The elves weren't willing to act against Ms Weasley's orders, so I took it upon myself to go up to her room.' His face became pale, and he gulped a couple of times, unable to go on.

Harry's hand tightened around Daphne's. He swallowed; what had happened to Ginny?

'She's… Oh sweet Merlin! ... She's dead… I found her in her bedroom, flung against the wall like a child's broken toy.' Director McLean slumped forward and covered his face with the palms of his hands.

An ice cold fist hit Harry in the stomach. The coldness raced through his body with lightning speed, freezing his muscles and his brain. The room seemed to spin around in front of his eyes.

Ginny… dead?

It couldn't be; she was so full of life and energy…

Daphne's hand quivered in his. He looked at his wife; she'd pressed her fist against her mouth, her eyes wide open. 'D... dead?' Her voice cracked, and she slumped against him.

He put his arm around her shoulder, to comfort her as much as to steady himself in a swaying world, bent his head and gulped. The room came to a halt, and he let out a deep breath. What was he supposed to do now? He took another deep breath.

His brain started to work again. _Flung against the wall like a broken toy._ Sweet Merlin, a violent death, how was poor Molly supposed to cope with that? His head jerked up. 'I suppose someone informed the Aurors?'

McLean stared back at him with wide eyes. 'No…' His tongue flicked over his lips. 'No, Mr Potter; I… I didn't think of that. All I could think of was the campaign, and that I had to inform you and Mrs Potter immediately.'

Harry gave the man a hard stare and sprang to his feet. With two long strides he was at the fireplace, knelt down, ignited a small fire with a short flick of his wand, and tossed some Floo Powder into the flames. 'Auror Department.'

He gritted his teeth against the uncomfortable feeling of his head being spun through the Floo Network, while his body stayed behind.

The Auror on duty recognised him at once. 'Good morning, Mr Potter. What can I do for you?'

'I have just been informed by one of my employees that Ms Ginevra Weasley has been found dead in her bedroom at _Stinchcombe Hall_ this morning. In his shock, my employee came to me as the owner of the house and Ms Weasley's current employer, instead of informing the Auror Department at once.' His voice sounded cool and collected, thank Merlin, and didn't let on that he still quivered like jelly on the inside.

The Auror on duty gaped at him. 'Ginevra Weasley? The international Quidditch star? The sister of the -?' He interrupted himself and turned pale. 'Sweet Merlin, who is going to tell him?'

Harry's shoulders sagged. Merlin's blue ball sack! Why did it always have to be him? However, he owed it to Ron for their long years of friendship; the horrible news had better come from someone close to him. So gathering his resolve he asked, 'Is Head Auror Weasley at the office?'

The man nodded, still mute with shock.

Harry sighed. 'Step aside. I'll come through.'

He pulled his head out of the flames and turned to Daphne. 'Someone has to tell Ron.'

She nodded, her eyes filled with tears. 'Sweet Morgana, I was angry at her and wanted her to go back where she came from. I didn't want her to die.' She took a shuddering breath. 'It's alright, Harry. Go. Ron will be devastated. It's better he hears the horrible news from you. Is there something I can do to help?'

'Yes; you need to tell Hermione and Fleur, they are two of your best friends, after all. Meet me at _The Burrow,_ Arthur and Molly will need our support.'

She nodded quietly, still at the brink of tears, and he stepped back towards her and hugged her. She leaned against him for comfort for a brief moment, then straightened. 'I'm alright, Harry. I'll see you at _The Burrow._ '

He kissed her on the forehead, let go of her and turned towards McLean. 'You'd better return to _Stinchcombe Hall_ and wait for the Aurors. Since you are the one who found the -' He gulped, '- who found the body, I guess they'll want to talk to you. Matty will take you there; I don't want you to Splinch yourself in your current state.'

McLean gave a silent nod.

Harry called Matty, ordered her to take Director McLean to _Stinchcombe Hall_ , and to tell the head house elf there to admit the Aurors to the house for their investigations. Then he Flooed to the Auror Department.

The horrible news seemed to have travelled within the department with lightning speed. About a dozen Aurors stood around the fireplace, talking in hushed voices, their field gear at their feet. When Harry stepped out of the Floo, Ron's deputy approached him.

Harry gritted his teeth and schooled his face into a bland mask. He didn't like the man, and neither did Ron.

Deputy Head Auror Everard Dawlish was a leftover of the Fudge and Scrimgeour administrations, one of the few Aurors at the department who had already served before and during the war. He'd been promoted to Deputy Head Auror under former Head Auror Gawain Robarts, for no other merits than he'd been one of the few Aurors who'd survived the war and hadn't taken the Dark Mark, and the long-term repercussions of the spell damage he had suffered when he tried to arrest Augusta Longbottom that made him unfit for field duty.

Under Robarts he'd been a capable, yet intellectually inflexible second in command, who eyed the necessary change in the department with distrustful suspicion, in particular the suggestions of one Senior Auror Ronald Bilius Weasley. He hadn't taken kindly to Ron's promotion to Head Auror over his head a couple of weeks ago. Chances were that he'd take a point on the apparent murder of Ron's sister to try make his mark.

Harry let out an inward sigh. That couldn't be helped; as a close relative of the victim Ron had a conflict of interest and was therefore precluded from the case, given it was a high profile victim Dawlish had to step in.

Dawlish lost no time for small talk. He gave Harry a curt nod and asked, 'Where is the body?'

'At _Stinchcombe Hall_ in Kent. Gordon McLean, the Director of the Department of Public Relations and Advertisement of the magical part of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products informed me of the… incident. We have… had Ms Weasley under contract as a model, and he went to her house to look after her when she didn't turn up for an appointment this morning. I'm under the impression he found… the body, lost his head over the shock, and informed my wife and me instead of the Auror Department. I Flooed for the Aurors as soon as I became aware of that omission.'

The Deputy Head Auror gave a huff at that, but didn't comment. 'The Floo address?'

'It's _Stinchcombe Hall._ It's one of the houses that belong to the Potter estate. Ms Weasley rented it about two weeks ago, I think. I made sure the house elves will let you in and help you in every way possible.'

'Alright.' Dawlish gave him another curt nod and turned to the assembled Aurors. 'You've heard what Mr Potter said. _Stinchcombe Hall._ Thomas, you and Finnegan -'

Harry didn't wait for Dawlish to finish his orders to his subordinated Aurors. He turned towards the closed mahogany door at the opposite side of the office with a brass badge that read _Ronald B. Weasley, Head Auror._

He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and knocked.

'Come in.'

Harry's stomach rolled; he grabbed for the door handle with cold, trembling fingers. If only this was already over; it was almost as bad as having to walk to his final meeting with Voldemort, no, in a way it was even worse; he hated having to hurt Ron.

Ron looked up from his papers when he opened the door, a smile of welcome on his face that became even broader when he recognised his visitor. 'Harry, what a nice surprise. What -'

He interrupted himself, the smile vanished from his face and gave place to a look full of dread.

Ron knew him too well, something in his expression must have given him away.

'Daphne?' Ron asked in a quiet voice.

Harry shook his head. Thank Merlin, no, he was not the one to grieve for a loved one today. Ugh, what an egotistical thought.

'Ginny,' he said. His legs gave out under him, and he collapsed into one of the visitor chairs in front of Ron's desk.

Ron jerked back as if recoiling from him. Small beads of sweat pooled on his upper lip, and he paled.

'Ginny?'

'Yeah. She didn't turn up for her appointment today, so Director McLean went to get her. He… he found her, dead.'

A small choking sound escaped Ron's throat, and he swayed in his seat. 'How?' he finally got out in a toneless whisper.

Harry raised his hands, palms upwards, in a helpless gesture. 'I… I'm sorry, I don't know all the details. McLean lost his head and came to me. I informed the Aurors as soon as I heard she was… killed. Dawlish and a team of investigators are at _Stinchcombe Hall_ as we speak.'

'Dawlish?' Ron sprang to his feet. 'Hell, no. I won't let that idiot mess up the investigation of the murder of my sister.'

Harry sprang up. His chair scratched over the wooden floor. He caught Ron by the arm and yanked him back. 'No, Ron. You know you can't interfere, you'd compromise any evidence they'll gather. We both wrote the law about the rules of conduct for Aurors, remember? You ought to take a leave of absence as long as the investigation continues or at least recuse yourself from the case.'

Ron stopped right in his tracks and glared at Harry, his face a dangerous red.

Harry held his breath. Was his best friend going to deck him?

The next second, Ron slumped onto the visitors chair Harry had just vacated. He buried his face in his hands and hunched as if in pain, a pain that no Pain Relief Potion on earth could numb.

Harry stepped beside his best friend, put a hand on his trembling shoulder, and prepared himself for a long wait.

 _t.b.c._


	78. Chapter 75

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** A big thank you to my fantastic editor shygui. As always, he did a marvellous job.

Chapters **75** and **76** , 06/07/19

* * *

 **75**

 _ **The Burrow, May 19th 2008**_

Harry Apparated Ron towards the Apparition Point on the hill behind _The Burrow_ some time later. Ron had insisted he could Apparate by himself, but Harry didn't want to hear any of that. The man was in no condition to Apparate, his hands still trembled, although Harry wasn't sure if it was in rage now or grief.

'The last thing we need today is you Splinching yourself, Ron. Your family has already enough on their plate as it is,' he'd said, cringing internally as he reminded Ron inadvertently of his sister's death, and that was it. Ron had bowed his head, taken his arm, and now here they were, walking down the familiar path to the garden of _The Burrow._

The back door to the kitchen stood open, and the next generation of Weasley children were playing in the backyard: eight year old Victoire, her now five year old sister Dominique, and their two year old brother Louis, together with Percy's daughters, seven year old Molly and her twin sister Muriel, as well as George's two children, four year old Fred and six year old Roxanne, and Hermione and Ron's daughter, two year old Rose. However, the usual exuberant laughter of the children was missing, they were quiet and cast uneasy glances through the open door at the adults in the kitchen.

The kitchen was crowded, that much was visible as Harry and Ron neared the house. Yet, no word could be heard, except for strained whispers and the desperate sobbing of a woman.

Ron's jaw clenched at the sound, and Harry put his hand on his taut arm. If only there was more he could do.

The moment they entered the backyard, little Rose ran towards Ron as fast as her little legs could carry her and hugged his knees. Her chubby chin quivered as she looked up at Ron and held up her small arms. 'Aahm!'

Ron picked her up and swung her on his arms. She buried her head at his shoulder and put her thumb into her tiny mouth.

Harry's heart clenched. That gesture told more than anything how scared his goddaughter was by the unusual behaviour of the adults in her life.

Victoire, Dominique and Louis had gathered around Harry, and now Louis held out his arms to him very much like Rose had done with Ron.

Harry took the little boy on his arm and gave Victoire and Dominique each a one armed hug.

Percy's and George's children had gathered around Ron, seeking reassurance and comfort from him. Even though they regarded Harry as their honorary uncle, they weren't as comfortable around him as Bill's children.

Each a toddler on their arm, the two young men entered the much too quiet kitchen, the older children in tow.

Molly and Arthur sat near the head of the table, their arms around each other. Molly had buried her head at Arthur's shoulder, and her loud sobs echoed through the quiet room.

When Harry and Ron entered the room, Arthur raised his head and gave them a small nod. He looked as if he'd aged twenty years over night.

Bill and Fleur, Percy and Audrey, and George and Angelina sat on the benches around the table, their eyes red rimmed, mugs with cold tea in front of them, and going by the dazed expressions of their faces not yet able to understand the tragedy that had befallen the family.

Hermione and Daphne stood at the stove, preparing more tea. They both looked solemn, but their eyes showed no trace of recent tears.

Hermione rushed to her husband and gathered him and their daughter into a silent hug. Ron hid his face in Hermione's bushy hair. His shoulders quivered, and Harry averted his eyes.

'Mama!' Louis squeaky voice distracted him from the emotional moment. The toddler stretched out his arms towards his mother and squirmed on Harry's arm. 'Whoa, careful there, young man, or you're going to hurt yourself,' Harry said, and delivered the child to its mother.

Fleur thanked him with a strained smile and took the boy into her lap, while Victoire and Dominique snuggled up to the left and right of their father.

The other children also searched for the comforting presence of their parents.

Harry exchanged a look with his wife as he stepped next to her at the stove and put his arm around her shoulder. Her eyes mirrored his thoughts. What were they doing here? They didn't belong to such an emotional family moment, even if Harry was an honorary Weasley.

Long minutes passed. Nobody spoke. The oppressing silence was only disturbed by Molly's sobs that eventually became quieter.

The kettle on the stove whistled, a welcome distraction from the oppressive silence that seemed so out of place in the cheerful kitchen of _The Burrow._ Daphne turned towards the stove, picked up the kettle, and brewed a fresh pot of tea the Muggle way. She took a clean mug from the board above the stove, poured some tea into it, added a teaspoon of honey, and brought it to Molly.

'Here, you need to drink something, or you'll get sick. It's chamomile tea, and I've added a few leaves of catnip for the soothing effect.'

Molly's head jerked up as if she'd been bitten by a snake. She glared at Daphne with bloodshot eyes, almost swollen shut from too much crying. 'Are you going to kill me, too?'

Gasps echoed through the kitchen, and the younger children whimpered in fear about the hateful voice of their grandmother.

'Molly!'

'Mother!'

'Mum! What's got into you?' That was Ron.

Daphne stood as stiff as a board, hands tightly gripping the mug, her wide eyes trained on Molly.

Molly pointed an accusing finger at her. 'You have killed my daughter. Ginny had no enemies, but you've been jealous of her all this time, because Harry would have married her and not you, had he been given a choice. Don't you think for one second, you bitch, that I've forgotten how you threatened to kill my daughter at Veterans Ball.'

Daphne jumped; her face turned ashen within the blink of an eye, and the hot tea sloshed out of the mug and over her fingers. She paid it no heed, the mug tilted almost out of her fingers and would have crashed to the ground if Fleur hadn't reached up and taken it out of her hands.

Harry stepped beside his wife and put an arm around her trembling shoulders, his jaw set into a taut line. Molly was grieving, yes, and deserved some lenience. He also knew she'd never really warmed up to Daphne. These accusations, however, were uncalled for.

'I know you're in shock and desperate right now, Molly, so I won't put much stock to your words, although I think it's better if Daphne and I return home. We won't come back until you have need of us, we have no wish to cause you further distress.'

Molly didn't answer. She had once again buried her head at Arthur's shoulder and was once more crying with loud sobs.

Arthur raised his head, gave Harry and Daphne a silent nod, and mouthed "Sorry". He looked more miserable than before, if that was possible.

Harry led his wife out of the kitchen. As one, the Weasley children rose and followed them into the backyard.

'Please, don't heed my mother's words,' Bill said. 'That's her grief talking. She's looking for someone she can hold responsible. Fleur told me what happened between you and Ginny in front of the ladies' room at Veterans Ball, and I don't blame you for losing your composure and lashing out at her. Merlin knows she'd done enough that night to deserve your anger.' He pulled Daphne into a hug, and she thanked him with a faint smile.

Fleur, his siblings and their spouses followed suit.

Harry cast a look at his wife. What was this all about? However, she was still as white as a bedsheet, and here and now was not the right time and place to ask her.

Ten minutes later they sat in the conservatory of _The Rectory,_ both a mug of soothing herbal tea in front of them. Merlin knew they needed something to calm down their nerves today; he surely did, and by the way Daphne's hand trembled when she picked up the mug in front of her, she needed it, too.

She took a sip, leaned back in the cushioned sofa, and closed her eyes, the mug cradled between her hands.

Harry raised his hand and caressed her pale cheek with the back of his index finger. 'What was Molly's diatribe all about?' he asked in a low voice.

Daphne sighed, opened her eyes, and cast him a miserable look. 'It's about something very stupid I did at the ball. I was dumb enough to let Ginny get at me, I lost my composure, and I publicly attacked and threatened her.'

Harry's stomach gave an uncomfortable flutter, and he stared at his wife from under raised eyebrows. What had she done? That wasn't at all like the composed and rational woman he knew. On the other hand, her composure had always suffered when she'd had the occasional bout of irrational jealousy, and she hadn't been herself at the night of the ball, either, as pale as she had been from her upset stomach.

Daphne bent forward and put her mug back on the table. She angled her upper body towards him and took his hand. 'Well, you knew what she did to us at the ball. I might have presented a calm face on the outside, nevertheless I was angry, actually, to be fair, I was beyond angry, I was furious at Ginny, so it didn't need much to provoke me. It was my bad luck that I ran into her when I went to the ladies' room, together with Fleur, Hermione and Lisa. She and Molly had just come out of the room. For the record, Ginny started it, you know. She came up to me and said something along the lines of she'd warned me before to stay away from what wasn't mine, I forget the exact wording.'

He gaped at her. 'She did what? I suppose the piece of property she was talking about was me?' He shook his head. 'She surely was delusional, wasn't she? Wait, there's something I missed.' He narrowed his eyes at his wife. 'She said she'd warned you before. Precisely when did this other encounter happen? You've never talked about that.'

Daphne gave a mirthless chuckle and pressed his hand. 'Of course it was you, honey. Well, truth be told, I've had two unpleasant encounters with her before that, at a time when Ginny still was an untouchable subject between us. The first was on our wedding day. She followed me up to my room when I went to get changed, and basically told me that no matter how close you and I would become physically, you'd cheat on me with her in your thoughts. I think her exact words were: _Whenever he touches you, whenever he kisses you, or whenever he sleeps with you, he'll be thinking of me._ '

He jerked upright, and his hand tightened around hers. 'What? She did that to you on your wedding day? What a horrible thing to do, especially given the circumstances of our wedding.'

Her cheeks pinked a little. 'I can't deny she was successful. Even though we became close pretty soon, I second-guessed every word and every gesture from you for a long time.'

'I imagine.' Harry bent forward and gave her a soft lingering kiss, before resting his forehead on hers. 'I'm sorry, darling, you didn't deserve that. Had I known -' He broke off, pulled his head back and bit his lip. Yes, he would've tried to assure her of his fidelity back then, however, truth be told, his own feelings still had been all over the place, he'd had a hard time to get over Ginny, so it was doubtful his assurances would've done any good.

He grinned at his wife, trying to lighten the mood. 'Obviously, Ginny's ploy didn't work in the long run. At some point you seemed to have stopped second-guessing me. What made you change your mind?'

A responding grin spread over Daphne's face and some of her colour returned. 'Ginny.'

'Ginny?' His eyebrows rose up a notch. 'Well, if it was her, I'd call that poetic justice, don't you think so?'

Daphne chuckled. 'That never occured to me, although you have a point. Remember our first Christmas together at _The Burrow_? Don't deny it, you were distressed when you learned about Ginny's surprise marriage to Elias Frudge, and it didn't get better when we stumbled on them making out in the living room of _The Burrow._ '

Heat shot into his face. 'You're right. Although it was also the day I realised I was over Ginny, and that my feelings for her had changed.'

'I figured that much out afterwards,' Daphne said with a nod. 'On that day, however, I went through a rollercoaster of emotions. You had left the room, and Ginny had followed you. I admit I was upset about that and needed some time alone, so I went into the kitchen. I saw you two standing at the edge of the orchard, and Ginny just flung her arms around your neck and invited you to kiss her. I didn't wait… no that's not right, I couldn't wait to see more, you know.'

'You saw that?' He scooted closer to her and put his arms around her shoulder. 'Had you stayed, you would've seen that I didn't act upon Ginny's invitation, but walked out on her.'

Daphne cuddled against him with a content sigh. 'Yeah, I was a fool, I know. Of course, I ran into Ginny only moments later, which should have told me right then and there that it hadn't gone the way I thought it had. She realised I'd seen you two together, and used the opportunity to drive the point home that you'd never really love me, that you'd always belong to her. Well, I thought …' she smiled slightly embarrassed. 'I thought that you'd decided to make her your mistress that day.'

Harry stiffened. 'You thought that? Daphne, you sweet, little fool, I never would've done that to you.'

She looked up at him and blew him a kiss. 'I know that now, honey. Right after my talk to Ginny, however, I was sad and angry and confused, so I took a walk to clear my head. That's where I found you near the grove, remember?'

'Yeah; you didn't wear a cloak and were as cold as an icicle.'

She blew him another kiss. 'You were so sweet and caring. You took me in your arms and put a Warming Charm on me. You have no idea how much that helped to calm down my frazzled nerves. I realised that I had only Ginny's word for what had happened between you; I also realised how far in trusting me you'd come during the first months of our marriage, and I decided not to listen to Ginny's insinuations anymore, but to show you the same trust you gave to me when you refused my magical oath the day you left the hospital.'

Her cheeks pinked once again. 'Well, I guess you remember what happened after that.'

Warmth spread in his chest. 'That I do.' He bent down and gave her a lingering kiss.

'Back to your encounter with Ginny on Veterans Ball,' he said. 'How did you react to her idiotic provocation?'

Daphne made a face. 'It was idiotic, wasn't it? I mean, how delusional was she? You'd broken up with her ten years ago, and you'd had next to no contact with her during all these years. It was obvious during dinner that she had no idea about the man you've become. On the other hand, we two have been through so much together, bad things and good things that bound us together. However, I'm ashamed to say I overreacted. I grabbed her by the arms and told her to stay away from you, or it would be the last thing she did. I'm also afraid to say that I dug my fingernails so deep into her flesh that they left marks.'

'Ouch.' Harry made a face. 'I agree, darling, that wasn't the smartest thing you ever did, especially since Ginny was found dead a week later. I doubt it makes you a prime suspect, though.' He hugged her to himself to raise her spirits.

She didn't answer. Instead, she averted her eyes, bit her lips, and lowered her head.

A cold, icy hand gripped Harry's heart and squeezed. What else had happened between Ginny and Daphne she hadn't told him yet and that might make her a suspect in Ginny's death? He reached out, took her chin in his hand, and with gentle pressure forced her to turn her head and look at him.

'What else aren't you telling me, darling?'

Tears shot into her eyes; she blinked them away. 'Something happened yesterday,' she said in a toneless voice. 'Pansy told me she saw you and Ginny having lunch together. I didn't believe for one second that you had searched for Ginny's company, Harry. But it was clear that she was still hunting you, and I knew I had to somehow put her in her place once and for all. The problem was that I had no idea how to do that. So I went for my walk yesterday afternoon. However, when I reached the boundary of _Stinchcombe Hall …'_

Her voice trailed off, and once again she averted her eyes.

Harry's stomach rolled, and a chill went down his spine. She hadn't, had she? Sweet Merlin, no, not his sweet and loving Daphne. Yet, there was that jealous streak of hers that made her cast rationality into the wind ... She'd also been irritated when she'd come home yesterday …

He shook his head, as if to clear his thought. Irritated, yes, but not agitated. More like she behaved at headquarters, when a minor, avoidable mistake had been made that vexed her. Her irritation had faded away the moment she'd seen him, and she'd even wound him up about his lunch with Ginny. She surely wouldn't have been able to behave that artless and unconcerned had she just … killed Ginny.

He let out a deep breath, put both of his arms around Daphne, and pulled her towards him. 'Tell me, love, we'll work it out.'

She sighed and leaned her head against his shoulders. 'Ginny sat in the turret that's built into the ha-ha of _Stinchcombe Hall._ She had her back to me; the opportunity was too good to miss it, so I Disarmed and Petrified her, and then Levitated her up to the house. I dumped her on the carpet in the entrance hall and told her to stay away from you, or I'd use the evidence Greco had gathered about her, her lover and her husbands to destroy her reputation, so that nobody would give her the time of day anymore. I told the head house elf to set her free as soon as I had left the grounds, and that's it.'

She raised her head and looked up at him. There was a trace of fear in her eyes. 'I'm now well aware I might have been the last human being who saw her alive before she met her killer.'

'Fuck!' He held her tight as if to shelter her from what was coming. If Dawlish found out about that encounter… If Molly repeated her delusional diatribe to him… It wouldn't matter that the head elf saw her leaving the house while Ginny was still alive, the evidence of an elf who owned loyalty to her wouldn't count. There was a big chance Daphne would become the number one suspect on Dawlish' list.

 _t.b.c._


	79. Chapter 76

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** A big thank you to my fantastic editor shygui. As always, he did a marvellous job.

Chapters **75** and **76,** 06/07/19

* * *

 **76**

 _ **The Burrow, May 19th 2008**_

Ron sat on the long bench in the kitchen of _The Burrow,_ his head leaned against his wife's shoulder, and his arms cradled around his sleeping daughter in his lap. A plate with an untouched sandwich stood on the scrubbed, white flat of the table in front of him, and the tea in the mug next to it had gone cold a long time ago.

Hermione and Rosie, his two biggest treasures. He had no idea how he would've made it through today without their love and support. He glanced at his brothers. Like him, they'd looked for and took comfort in their spouses and children.

Bill had one arm around Victoire, and the other around Fleur, who held a sleeping Louis in her lap, and had Dominique snuggled up next to her. Percy and Audrey each had one of their twin daughters in their lap and leaned against each other. George held little Fred. The redheaded rascal was the spitting image of his father and his namesake, and of course didn't think of sleeping like his younger cousins. He'd bet his Auror badge that the angelic smile on the little boy's face was masking some mischief he'd just committed, most likely at the expense of his older sister Roxanne, his preferred victim. Roxanne sat on Angelina's lap, and caressed her dad's arm with her little hand over and over again.

Charlie was the only Weasley child still alive who was missing from their childhood home. He'd sent him an owl, immediately after he had recovered from his meltdown in his office, and informed him of Ginny's death. No doubt he'd take the next Portkey back home, though it would probably take him some time to get from the remote dragon preserve in Romania to _The Burrow_.

He'd be devastated, he and Ginny were especially close … His stomach gave a hard lurch - had been especially close. Ginny was dead.

His throat constricted, and he gritted his teeth so as not to burst out in tears in front of the children.

Sweet Merlin, Ginny, his fiery little sister, was dead. He would never again hear her voice making a funny, but cutting remark at his expense. Never again would she trounce his arse in a family game of Quidditch. Gone also was her last chance to reconcile with her family, a family she'd forsaken, for reasons he couldn't fathom a long time ago.

For what? The fame and gold? Had it made her happy?

He bit onto his lip until he drew blood. No, it hadn't; her hunt for Harry after all these years, even though it was plain to see for anyone who cared to look that he was deeply in love with Daphne, was proof enough for that.

What had she got herself into that got her killed? Was it about one of her many affairs? Even though she'd lived in the States, the stories about her many conquests had filtered back to magical Britain. She'd never been without a man by her side for long … Who had been her last lover? She'd separated from her last husband six months ago, there was no chance she'd been without a man that long. Did she get involved with the wrong bloke?

He buried his face into Rosie's bushy red hair. Maybe they'd never know; if only he could lead the investigation, Dawlish was a moron and borderline incompetent, worse he was dangerous, he'd use Ginny's death as a power game inside the DMLE; the hunt for Ginny's killer was of secondary importance to him.

He listened to the voices that came from behind the closed door to the living room, loud and clear.

Dawlish had appeared, peppered up with a draught of his own importance, shortly after lunch and begun questioning them, starting with dad. However, the idiot hadn't followed even the minimum standard protocol that had been developed for the interviews of those somehow involved in a possible homicide in the last ten years. There was no Auror with them to make sure they wouldn't talk among each other and coordinate their stories. Dad had been allowed to return into the kitchen after his interview, and now it was mum's turn.

Mum's loud and agitated voice could be heard through the door as if she'd sit right beside them. 'I tell you, Auror Dawlish, that woman killed my daughter as sure as my name is Molly Weasley. She's always been jealous that Harry was deeply in love with my Ginny when Cyrus Greengrass forced him to marry his daughter, and my Ginny was far, far prettier than her. Harry is faithful, his feelings don't change, once they develop. He wanted to leave Daphne, anyone with eyes could see that, and now that Ginny was free, he could make his move, but his wife obviously doesn't want to let him go, she said as much at Veterans Ball when she attacked my poor daughter out of the blue.'

Great, the idiot hadn't put Privacy Charms on the living room.

More importantly, would Dawlish take mum's diatribe seriously?

His face still hidden in his daughter's hair, he frowned. Of course he would, he wouldn't do his job if he didn't. Even so, there was a difference between following a lead or using a lead for your own agenda.

Dawlish wasn't happy that he'd been passed over for Head Auror, he was a bitter man, so as sure as Merlin was a wizard he'd be looking for a way to prove his worth to the Head of the DMLE. The current head, Eugenia Roper, was a descendant of the Sacred Twenty-Eight family. While the Ropers weren't violent about it, they were still known Pureblood supremacists.

Eugenia's older brother, Geoffrey, held the family seat on the Wizengamot, and was very vocal in his opposition to Harry's faction. Eugenia was close to her brother, there was no doubt she was his link to the house politics of the Ministry, just as he was Harry's. She had only made it that far up the ranks because Harry and his faction had lacked the political clout on the Wizengamot they carried nowadays, and Eugenia had been pushed through with the votes of the then still reasonably strong Pureblood faction, no doubt a good deal of gold had changed hands and greased her way into the office as well. And they'd had to live with the bitch ever since.

He suppressed the cuss word that welled up in him. Hermione would have his head if he swore in front of Rosie.

Eugenia would swoop down on anything that gave her even a remote chance to discredit Harry's reputation, and a murder investigation with Harry's wife as the prime suspect would smell like weeks old carrion to the vulture. She'd also try to get rid of him during the investigations; she'd never approved of Kingsley's decision to make him Head Auror over Dawlish. He'd be a fool to have any illusions about that.

Ron raised his head and exchanged an urgent look with his wife.

Two red spots burnt on her cheekbones, her eyes had a dangerous gleam, and she had her lips pressed into a thin white line. Understanding flickered across her face; she leaned towards him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. 'I need to visit the bathroom.' She got up from the bench, exchanging a look and a nod with Fleur as she did so.

A relieved smile flickered briefly on Fleur's lips.

Ron buried his head in his daughter's hair once again. Thank Merlin Hermione was that quick on the uptake. His position with the Auror Department and his involvement in this particular case made it impossible for him to communicate with Harry and Daphne about the case from now until it was closed. In particular, he couldn't warn them about the nonsense his mother was spouting in her grief and tell them to be prepared for an investigation into Daphne. Hermione, however, had no such restrictions placed upon herself, especially when Dawlish continued to ignore standard procedure and restrict their movements and communication whilst he was conducting interviews.

Hermione returned not even five minutes later, looking pleased with herself and gave him a small nod, the corners of her mouth turned up in an almost imperceptible curve.

Ron let out a deep breath. They'd done what they could do. Now it was up to Harry to protect his wife and everything that they'd all worked for.

 _t.b.c._


	80. Chapter 77

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Thank you tomy fantastic editor shygui, who still doesn't get tired working with me on this monster of a story. You rock, my friend!

Chapter **77** only, 13/03/19

* * *

 **77**

 _ **The Ministry of Magic, May 19th 2008**_

Eugenia Roper gripped the armrests of her colourful, yet imposing looking Moroccan Leather chair, and let her eyes survey her office at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement within the Ministry of Magic.

When she'd ascended to this position eight years ago - by her brother's gold and some discreet blackmail - she'd been appalled by the shabby furniture the Ministry of Magic forced the head of such a prestigious and important department as the DMLE to work in, and she'd at once ordered the Roper house elves to remodel the room to be commensurate to a woman of her standing. Merlin knew there was enough antique and bespoke furniture stashed away in the Roper heirloom vault to furnish the whole Ministry.

Each day during the last eight years she had delighted herself with the impressive, yet serene atmosphere of the room: the carved desk that stood on a gracefully faded authentic oriental carpet that picked up the colours of her chair and told of old money at the same time; the oxblood coloured leather Chesterfield couch with matching chairs, grouped around a low table in front of the fireplace, and the gleaming bookcases that lined the walls of the room and showed off an impressive collection of leather-bound books about an astounding array of magical fields, courtesy of the Roper library. Everything was set into the right light by precious Murano lamps, made of hand-blown glass, starting with the chandelier that hung from the ceiling in the middle of the room, to the sconces that adorned the walls between the bookcases, and the small chandelier on her desk.

She relaxed back into her seat. The room never failed to soothe her nerves. Morgana only knew she had reason enough for headaches. Her job, so easy in the beginning, thanks to her brother Geoffrey, who'd kept the Wizengamot out of her hair, but it had become increasingly difficult because of that upstart, Potter, and his eyes and ears at the Ministry, that Blood-traitor spawn Weasley.

The uncritical magical public adored those two, and so did the majority of the Wizengamot. War heroes, they called them.

Eugenia let out a snort. War heroes for what? For dropping out of school and running away? True, Potter had killed the Dark Lord in the end, however, probably anyone could have done that with a lucky shot. Not to mention that things had been easier for her family under the Dark Lord - certainly a lot easier than now.

Of course, the things the Dark Lord had done had been appalling. Even worse, he had endangered the Statute of Secrecy. He would've had to be brought down for that by her own people sooner or later. After all, he'd been just another Half-blood upstart, just like Potter: not worth mentioning, and expendable as soon as he'd outlived his usefulness.

Too bad Potter had acted before that moment had come. That had given him an unfair advantage.

Potter had proved to be remarkably persistent in his professed goal to reform Britain's magical society and push it into the twentieth century. A lot of his success no doubt was owned to the ridiculous adoration he got right up to this very day. Even she as the head of the DMLE had no idea what exactly he'd done; it was all hushed-hushed and strictly confidential, but surely his part in bringing down the Dark Lord had been exaggerated. After all, exaggeration until everything was out of proportion was one of the big vices of wizardkind.

Besides that, he never would've made it this far without the support of Cyrus Greengrass and the faction he led on the Wizengamot. She bared her teeth in an ugly sneer. Cyrus had been a disgrace for the Sacred Twenty-Eight, a Blood-traitor even worse than the Weasleys. They at least didn't have any money and influence they could throw around for that upstart Potter. For Cyrus, however, the sun had risen and fallen with the boy. It had been ridiculous how proud he had been of that upstart. It was as if he was his very own child!

Well, Cyrus was mouldering in his grave for more than two years now, but things hadn't become any better after his daughter had picked up the reins of power. She was married to Potter, of all people, and even more devoted to him than Cyrus had been, if that was possible.

It had been his wife's influence that empowered Potter to push through his preferred candidate for the position of the Head Auror with the blessing of Minister Shacklebolt, over hers and many others, vehement protests. And now she had to live with that pain in the arse Ronald Weasley. Her headaches hadn't stopped ever since then.

Not that Weasley was a bad Head Auror; on the contrary, he was frightfully efficient. How long would it take him to find out about her family's lucrative, little side businesses she had protected ever since she became Head of the DMLE? Geoffrey was smart, he'd used the opportunity to snatch some of Lucius Malfoy's business when he was sent off to Azkaban. Her life would have been a lot easier if the Wizengamot had followed Geoffrey's suggestion and had approved Dawlish as Head Auror.

On top of it all, she now had to deal with the apparent murder of Weasley's sister. No doubt the ill-bred woman had slept with the wrong guy and had got her just deserts; one only had to read what had been printed about her in the newspapers to know this had been coming for a long time. Well, it was one thing to have a fairly accurate guess of what had happened to the unfortunate girl, but an entirely different pair of shoes to nail someone for her death.

The impatient wizarding population, however, would demand results in finding her murderer - soon.

She groaned and raised her hands to her throbbing temples. If only Weasley could lead the investigations, he was a natural at that, and had a vested personal interest on top of it. Thanks to one of the ridiculous laws he and Potter had written for the DMLE, he was out, and she had to make do with Dawlish. Dawlish had his uses, but he was light years away from Weasley's investigative skills.

And if he didn't find and present a culprit really fast, both of their jobs were in danger. Minister Shacklebolt would welcome any pretext to get rid of relicts of the times when the Purebloods still ruled the Ministry, as they should, and Geoffrey would be most displeased with her.

She got up to her seat, walked to the hidden bar in one of the bookcases, and poured herself a generous amount of whisky into a delicate crystal glass. Muggle whisky. As appalling Muggles were, they knew how to brew a good booze. Was there anything better in the world than a glass of Talisker after an exhausting day?

She raised the glass to her nose, inhaled the smoky aroma, sipped, and at once a relaxed smile crept over her face. With the glass in her hand she walked over to the sofa, plopped down and kicked off her high heels. A lazy flick of her wand ignited the flames in the grate. She might as well make herself comfortable until Dawlish deigned to inform her about the results of his no doubt primitive investigations.

* * *

Eugenia startled at a knock on the door. She raised herself on her elbows and blinked into the semi-darkness of the room. The fire in the fireplace had burned down to red-glowing embers. She must've fallen asleep at some point.

Another knock on the door.

Eugenia got up the sofa, fished with her feet for her high heeled pumps, and smoothed down her hair with her hands. She scooted towards her desk, igniting all the lamps in the room with a quick jab of her wand, and sat down, pulled a piece of parchment towards her and grabbed for a quill with the other hand. 'Come in,' she called, the quill poised over the parchment.

The door opened and admitted Dawlish. He held a wad of parchment in his free hand and looked as if Yule had come early.

Now, that was interesting. She schooled her face into a neutral mask, put down the quill, and pointed towards the upholstered visitor leather chair in front of her desk. 'Deputy Head Auror Dawlish; I assume you bring good news?'

Dawlish acknowledged her with a small bow. 'Director Roper.' He sat down, crossed his legs, and adjusted the wad of paper in his lap. 'I think the case is solved. You'll be especially happy regarding the political implications this will undoubtedly have, director.'

Her eyebrows rose for a notch. 'Please, proceed,' she said and leaned back in her chair to listen.

Dawlish adjusted his papers once more.

What a fusspot. Eugenia barely refrained from rolling her eyes.

He harrumphed for good measure and began - finally.

'This morning around a quarter past nine Mr Harry Potter, resident of _The Rectory_ in Kent, informed us that Ms Ginevra "Ginny" Weasley had been found dead in her bedroom at _Stinchcombe Hall,_ in direct neighbourhood to _The Rectory._ Mr Potter claimed that Ms Weasley had been found by one of his employees, who in his state of shock informed him as the owner of _Stinchcombe Hall,_ ratherthan coming straight to the Auror office.'

Eugenia frowned. 'That sounds flimsy to me.'

Dawlish flashed her a brief smile. 'It gets even better. Instead of staying and being available for our investigation team, Mr Potter went straight to see Head Auror Weasley, under the pretext he had to inform Head Auror Weasley about the death of his sister.'

'Well, that might be true. After all, Potter and Weasley are best friends since their Hogwarts days, and Potter is reported to be very close to the whole Weasley clan,' Eugenia threw in.

The Deputy Head Auror gave a noncommittal hum to that and shot her a glance that indicated he'd come back to this piece of information at a later point.

'I led an investigation team to _Stinchcombe Hall.'_ He let out a low whistle. 'Have you ever been at that place, director?'

Eugenia shook her head. She had met Potter and his wife at ministerial functions and the New Years Reception of the Wizengamot over the years; apart from that, they moved in different circles. The Potters were the ringleaders of the new, young and liberal elite that had formed after the war, while her own family, with a centuries old and proud Pureblood history, had been pushed aside until it was almost insignificant. They'd never been deemed to be worthy enough to be invited to the sumptuous reception the Potters gave at _Stinchcombe Hall_ once a year. Heat shot into her face, and she gripped the armrests of her chair tighter. The gall of these jumped up upstarts.

'Well, it is a veritable palace,' Dawlish went on, oblivious to her anger. 'Marble floors and gilded doors everywhere you look, you know, and well _huge._ ' He shook his head. 'When we arrived, we found one Gordon McLean standing in front of the house. The man seemed to be in a state of shock. Nevertheless he managed to introduce himself as the Director of the Department of Public Relations and Advertisement of the magical part of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products, the company Potter and his wife own jointly, as it is well known in the magical world. He also told us that Ms Weasley is under contract of Crystal Fairy's as a model.' He scrunched up his nose at that.

He had a point there. What kind of job was being a model? It sounded like being just one step above a simple street hooker. Given the reputation of the Weasley girl, that fitted.

'Apparently, Ms Weasley didn't turn up to an appointment this morning, and McLean went over to _Stinchcombe Hall_ to kick her lazy butt in gear. He claims when he arrived the head house elf informed him that Ms Weasley had given orders not to be disturbed until she called for the elves again when she retired to her rooms the day before. So, McLean took it upon himself to enter Ms Weasley's bedroom and haul her out of bed. Only, she already was out of bed, slumped down against the wall of her bedroom, with a crack in her skull.'

Dawlish shifted his papers, pulled out a sheet covered with magical photos, and motioned to hand it to Eugenia.

She held up her hand, palm outwards. 'Thanks, Deputy Head Auror, I'll look at them later, right now please continue your report.'

'As you wish, madam.' Dawlish tucked the sheet back into his wad of papers. 'We questioned the house elves after that, and asked for her routine the day before she died, and her visitors.'

He made a pregnant pause, and a grin appeared on his face. 'It's too good to be true, director. Ms Weasley apparently got an unwelcome surprise visit by one Daphne Potter yesterday afternoon. According to the head elf, Mrs Potter Levitated a petrified and silenced Ms Weasley into the entrance hall of _Stinchcombe Hall,_ dumped her on the carpet and yelled at her for about ten minutes. After that, she told the head house elf to take the spells off Ms Weasley in another twenty minutes and left the house.'

Eugenia gasped. 'Does that mean -'

'For all what we knew, Mrs Potter was the last person to see Ms Weasley alive. Even better, the house elf who claims it had seen Mrs Potter leaving the house, belongs to Mrs Potter's husband and owes her loyalty because of that. This means the claims of the elf that Ms Weasley still was alive when Mrs Potter left the house might as well be wrong, because it feels bound to lie for its mistress.'

Her heart skipped a beat, and a broad smile appeared on Eugenia's face. This was too good to be true. If they could nail the murder of the Weasley girl to Potter's wife … Well, it would make Geoffrey's work at the Wizengamot a lot easier in the coming years if Potter's reputation was damaged, this could be huge, and it would probably also save her job. 'What else did the elf say?'

'I stopped the interrogation at that point, since the elf had provided me with a solid lead to follow,' Dawlish said. 'Instead I interviewed McLean, who had finally calmed down enough for that, and afterwards the Weasley family.'

He shifted the papers in his lap and pulled out another sheet of parchment. 'McLean's interview was enlightening, if I may say so. Apparently, McLean was the one to make the negotiations with Ms Weasley's agent and informed Mr Potter and his wife afterwards to get their approval.'

Again, Dawlish paused for the effect, and Eugenia just barely refrained from yelling at the man to get to the point.

'It seemed Mrs Potter was anything but delighted when McLean and his deputy told the Potters about the coup they'd landed on Monday of last week.'

Well, she couldn't blame the woman there; the Sunday newspapers and Monday's _Prophet_ had been full with the story of how Potter had ditched his wife in favour of the Weasley girl at Veterans Ball, complete with a lot of speculation about the state of the Potter marriage, and the further relationship between Potter and the Quidditch player. His wife must have been seething about the contract, any woman would have.

Aloud she said, 'I'm not surprised. What else did you drag up about Potter's wife?'

'Mrs Weasley was a bottomless well of information. Terribly distraught, of course, the poor woman. It's the second child she'd lost, and the only daughter. Besides that, she was very vocal in her disapproval of Mrs Potter.' He took another sheet of parchment out of the wad in his lap. 'Her witness is pure dynamite. It seems Mr Potter was not at all inclined to marry his wife in the beginning. Mrs Weasley claims he'd been in a very close relationship with her daughter back then, and had been on the brink of proposing to Ms Weasley, when Cyrus Greengrass butted in. She says he'd blackmailed Potter into marrying his daughter.'

An almost painful jolt run through Eugenia, and she went straight in her chair. 'Blackmail? How by Merlin's beard did he do that? Potter isn't one who can be manipulated easily.'

'Don't I know that,' Dawlish replied with bitter feeling. He took another look on his papers. 'Mrs Weasley claims Potter was seriously ill after the war, though he hid it well from the public, and needed a special and very expensive treatment. The Goblins had stripped Potter of all his cash as compensation for the damage they had suffered because of Potter's break in, and he was broke. Cyrus Greengrass had been appointed as the executor of the estate of Potter's grandfather Fleamont Potter. Potter got an unfathomable huge amount of gold out of that, from what I could discover, however, he couldn't access any of it without Greengrass' consent. Apparently, Greengrass only agreed on giving the gold Potter needed on condition of Potter marrying his daughter. It seemed Potter was desperate enough to agree.'

Eugenia gasped. If Dawlish was right, then this was a gigantic erumpent horn waiting to explode, the wizarding population would be raging with rightful indignation if that became public. If she played her cards right, she could obliterate the Potter/Greengrass alliance once and for all. A wave of warmth spread from her stomach all over her body. Geoffrey would be so proud and grateful.

She leaned forward and put her lower arms on the gold-embossed leather desk pad. 'Alright, Deputy Auror Dawlish, what are the conclusions you've drawn from your investigations?'

Dawlish took a deep breath. 'Ms Weasley and Potter were lovers ten years ago. Potter was about to propose to Ms Weasley, when the despicable machinations of Cyrus Greengrass forced him to give up on the woman he loved and marry Greengrass' daughter instead. Apparently, she was in full compliance with her father's plans, or she wouldn't have played along.'

Eugenia gave a thoughtful nod. Dawlish' reasoning was sound so far.

'It seems Potter and Ms Weasley weren't deterred by that for long and continued their relationship in secret. As of yet, we can only speculate about what else Cyrus Greengrass had in his hands against Potter, but obviously it kept him from divorcing his wife. This seems to have changed after Cyrus Greengrass died. Potter brought his secret love back to England, managed to give her a big chunk of gold under the pretext of a modelling contract for the company he owns, and established her in the most lavish of his many houses, in direct neighbourhood to the house where he lives with his wife.'

'That must have been like a slap in the face to Mrs Potter,' Eugenia said.

'Without any doubt.' Dawlish nodded in agreement. 'According to McLean, she didn't react kindly when she heard of the news. The mother of the victim testified that Mrs Potter threatened to murder her daughter before that. It seems that she decided to take matters into her own hands yesterday afternoon, went to _Stinchcombe Hall,_ and killed Ms Weasley with an overpowered Blasting Hex.'

'That sounds logical,' Eugenia said. 'Is it enough?'

Dawlish gave her a knowing grin. 'It's enough to bring her in for questioning. Given we'll find the right M.W.* from the panel of judges who acts as committing magistrate for the job, it will even be enough to obtain an arrest warrant. No doubt the committing magistrate will let her go on bail after the twenty-four hours, Potter's influence is too strong for any other decision. However, a lot can happen in the time she has to spend in the holding cells that makes her repent and plead guilty in front of the committing magistrate.' He gave her a meaningful look.

'Then let's hope she'll see the errors of her ways,' Eugenia said with a pious flutter of her eyelids. She looked at the jewelled watch that was pinned to the lapel of her embroidered robes, and took a folder out of her desk. She opened the folder and let her finger run down of the column of names. 'Burke is on duty in another ten minutes,' she said and closed the folder. 'That will give us time to prepare the petition for an arrest warrant. Burke is a sensible man and will do everything he can to accommodate me.' She gave Dawlish an angelic smile, grabbed for a sheet of parchment and a quill, and began to write.

* * *

 _ **The Rectory, May 19th 2008**_

It was close to midnight when Eugenia Apparated to the official Apparition Point at _The Rectory,_ together with Dawlish and two Aurors.

They walked towards a gate in a high brick wall that separated the house from the driveway with the Apparition point. The gate swung open, and the windows of the ground floor of the main house in front of them were ablaze with light.

Eugenia's stomach dropped. Morgana curse it. Had their visit been expected? The impression was reinforced when the front door was opened before they could knock, by a house elf clad in a green linen tea towel toga.

'Master and mistress bes waiting for you in the living room,' the small creature said, turned around and led the way down a broad, stone-flagged hallway with an impressive gallery of portraits of the ancestors of the Greengrass family. The magical portraits didn't whisper, they didn't even so much as blink an eye, but their eyes followed them with varied expressions from utter disgust to icy disapproval. A cold shiver run down Eugenia's back, and she breathed when the elf came to a halt in front of a tall door and opened it for them.

'Director Roper and Deputy Head Auror Dawly,' it said.

They hadn't given the elf their names. So, they had been expected. A ring of steel seemed to tighten itself around Eugenia's head and squeezed her temples in a rather uncomfortable way. This was not going anything like they had planned.

She crossed the threshold of the room, Dawlish and the two Aurors in her wake.

Daphne Potter was sitting on the big sofa opposite the fireplace, flanked by her husband and another man with dark, parted hair, cool grey eyes, and clad in impeccable dark blue business robes with just a hint of silver embroidery around the buttonholes. She'd met him before, at court. Anthony Goldstein, partner of Goldstein, Goldstein and Fawley. Her stomach sank when she recognised the probably most accomplished defence barrister in all of magical Britain.

Potter and Goldstein rose when they entered. Daphne Potter, however, kept her seat. Her face was a bland mask, nothing in it gave away if she was scared, though she was unnaturally pale.

As always, Potter's horrible hair stuck out into all directions. In stark contrast to Goldstein he was clad in Muggle jeans and a plaid shirt, just like his wife. Eugenia wrinkled her nose slightly. How disgusting, it seemed the Potters had only little sense of decorum outside of official functions. She, at least, would never dream of wearing these ugly Muggle clothes.

'Director, Deputy Head Auror,' Potter said with a nod. He made no move to shake their hands, and his extraordinary green eyes were cool and alert. Drat, the man knew what was coming. How?

Goldstein mirrored Potter's nod without a word, his eyes appraising them.

Potter stepped back and put a hand on his wife's shoulder. Her hand fluttered for a brief moment, as if she wanted to put it onto his in search for comfort and protection.

The corners of Eugenia's mouth curved up in an imperceptible smile. Mrs Potter wasn't as aloof as she wanted to appear. It would be easy to … persuade her to sign an admission during the course of the night.

'This is not a social call, Mr Potter,' she said, pulled out the warrant of arrest and presented it to Mrs Potter. 'Daphne Potter, in the name of the magical population of England I arrest you under the suspicion of the murder of Ginevra Molly Weasley.'

Her words hung into the silent room. Neither Mrs Potter, nor her husband or Goldstein showed any sign of surprise. Damn it, they had anticipated that and made their preparations. This had the potential to put a spoke of gigantic proportions in their wheel. Dawlish had better turn every stone in this case for more incriminating evidence against the woman.

She held out her hand. 'Your wand, please.'

Mrs Potter flicked her wrist, and a wand slipped into her hand from an invisible holster on her arm. With raised eyebrows Eugenia took the wand and stashed it into the pocket of her robes. Why did the woman think it necessary to carry her wand with her all the time? Hardly any women of her standing did that; she wouldn't be surprised if the wands of at least half of those women gathered dust in a forgotten corner of their houses.

Potter stepped towards his wife, gathered her in his arms, and whispered something into her ear. She replied in such a low voice that the words weren't understandable. Potter gave her a lingering kiss on the forehead and stepped back.

Daphne Potter turned towards her. 'I'm ready, director,' she said in a calm and collected voice.

Goldstein moved beside her. 'I am coming with Mrs Potter,' he said, his chin raised slightly, steel glinting in his eyes as if challenging her and Dawlish.

Eugenia gritted her teeth. She should have expected this. Thanks to the laws passed after the war she couldn't deny Mrs Potter legal representation during her interrogation, until she was brought into the holding cells of the Ministry.

Then in one foul swoop it became even worse and her heart plummeted into her shoes.

'Mipsy,' Potter called. Another green-clad elf _plopped_ into the room. 'You're going to stay with your mistress. You're not going to leave her side and are going to watch over her, no matter what happens. If anyone tries to get at Mistress Daphne outside of the interrogations, when Mister Anthony isn't with her, you are going to inform your mother. Mistress Daphne is not supposed to eat anything given to her at the Ministry. Your mother will bring her everything she needs.'

Damned, who had told Potter about the ancient law that allowed a member of the Ancient Houses to have a personal servant with them when they were under arrest? All their best laid plans just went down the drain. She barely suppressed an angry growl.

'When is the hearing about bail?' Goldstein asked.

She cleared her throat. 'Around noon tomorrow, courtroom one.'

'I'll arrange everything with Gringotts first thing tomorrow morning,' Potter said, his jaw set in a grim line.

There wasn't anything more to add. Suppressing a growl of frustration she motioned with her chin towards the two Aurors, and they took Mrs Potter, escorted by Goldstein, in their midst. They walked them out of the room, followed by a stone-silent Eugenia and a now very subdued Dawlish.

 _t.b.c._

* * *

*Member of Wizengamot


	81. Chapter 78

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Another round of applause to my wonderful editor Shygui who luts up with me through this seemingly never ending story.

Chapter **78** and **79** , 20/03/19

* * *

 **78**

 _ **Malfoy Manor, May 20th 2008**_

Lucius Malfoy stood in front of the floor length mirror in his huge bedroom at Malfoy Manor. He had just taken a shower, and now took stock of the image of his naked body with cold, silvery eyes that betrayed none of his feelings.

Ten years of Azkaban had turned his hair white before its time, no longer was there any trace of gold and the once full mane had become thin and brittle; he was bald at the temples and - shame of shame - the pale skin shimmered through his hair at the crown of his head. Deep furrows marred his forehead and ran from his aristocratic nose to the perpetually downturned corners of his mouth. His sallow, greyish skin hung down from his cheeks in deep folds, a look that reminded him of the bulldogs one of his contemptible Muggle neighbours used to breed.

His eyes wandered further down on his body. Nothing of its muscular suppleness was left. Instead, he'd developed a pot-belly, its folds following the rules of gravity and partly covering his manhood.

That was another part of his life they had taken from him.

Narcissa knew her duties, and she had waited for him in his bed when he came up from the library where he had holed himself up after his return.

He had sent her away; ten years in that hellhole had as good as castrated him, there was no wood left in his wand.

The look of relief that flickered for a split second across her bland face had almost been comical to watch, hadn't it been another reminder of what he had lost.

When had she begun to hate him?

They hadn't married out of love; it had been an arranged marriage to keep the bloodlines pure. However, they'd had a lot in common, and soon had developed mutual affection and respect. The birth of their beloved son only had confirmed their feelings for each other; they had bonded over their deep love for their only child, and their desire to give him the best in life, like their little wonder deserved.

Everything had changed after that fatal night in the Hall of Prophecies. At first, everything had gone according to the plan he had developed. The Dark Lord had planted the false memory of Black's capture into Potter's head. Like the Gryffindor fool the boy was, he had charged into a rescue mission for the mutt without thinking. Kreacher denying to know anything about Black's whereabouts - of course coached by Narcissa - had done the rest.

His carefully developed plan had gone to hell in a handbasket the moment Potter decided to fight, instead of being turned into a blubbering mass of fear in the face of the Dark Lord's most loyal and dangerous servants, and hand over the damned prophecy.

The Dark Lord had never forgiven him for that.

He had been prosecuted and shipped off to Azkaban to serve his sentence. He hadn't been concerned about that; the Dark Lord had returned, it would only be a matter of weeks, at the most, until he'd be a free man once again.

What he hadn't counted on the Dark Lord seeking his revenge on Narcissa and Draco while he was in prison.

The Dark Lord had chosen to "honour" the Malfoys by making their manor his residence, and paying for his quest to overpower the Ministry from their coffers. His proud wife had been reduced to a mere decoration in her own house; Bellatrix had been the lady of the manor, and had made sure the Dark Lord's orders were followed.

Narcissa could have coped with that; she was a Slytherin, after all, and would have bidden her time, cunning and patient, until she'd found an opportunity to regain what was hers.

She'd never forgiven him that the Dark Lord selected their only child as the weapon to punish him harder than any Torture Curse ever would have managed.

Oh, on the outside it had been a great honour. The Dark Lord had selected Draco to be marked at Lughnasadh, and then had given him the important task to kill Dumbledore, so that Hogwarts would be vulnerable and easy to conquer the moment the Dark Lord decided to strike.

He and Narcissa had shared a look over Draco's blonde head. The boy had trembled with anticipation, eager to prove himself. The cold dread that gnawed at his insides had been mirrored in Narcissa's eyes: the boy was deluding himself, he wasn't a killer, he wasn't hard enough to do what must be done. The Dark Lord had him set up to fail while Lucius watched, and then he'd kill him before the eyes of his parents, slowly and painfully, to complete their torture.

Narcissa had moved out of their bedroom that very night.

Lucius heaved a sigh and cast another look at his image in the mirror.

He'd been a tall, handsome man in his prime when he, the head of the Noble House of Malfoy, had to submit himself to a politically motivated trial, for no other reason than he'd wanted to restore the glory of the wizarding world and had failed. His gleaming, white-blonde hair had been full and well-groomed, and his lean, yet muscular body had been clad in bespoken robes out of the finest Acromantula silk. His gold and cunning had secured him the place of the power behind the throne in a Ministry of Magic under that fool Fudge.

Everything he'd achieved had begun to crumble under his feets the moment Potter decided to fight in the Hall of Prophecies.

He gritted his teeth until his jaw hurt. He had lost everything, and thanks to Potter and Cyrus Greengrass he'd had to serve each and every single day of the ten years they had given him in that farce of a trial, almost immediately after Potter, that worthless blinder, had by some freak streak of luck managed to destroy the Dark Lord.

His heart pounded in his chest, the blood rushed in his ears, and he curled his fists, the nails digging into the palms of his hands, until his body shook, and a sharp, burning pain in his chest jolted through him, as if an invisible force had pressed a branding iron on his heart.

He took a laboured breath, uncurled his fist, and forced himself to calm down. The pounding of his heart receded, the burning pain, however, stayed.

Another souvenir from Azkaban that could be laid down at Potter's door.

He turned, walked to the huge four poster bed with slow, short steps, laid down on the silver-embroidered, green silk sheets, and closed his eyes.

Six month, at the most, the healer at Azkaban had told him, a lot less if he didn't stay calm, and all the healing magic at their disposal wasn't able to cure the damage his heart had suffered.

Too much exposure to Dark Magic, had been the verdict. Maybe a cure with the _Renouvellement_ Potion would have worked, but his heart was already too weak for that when the reason for his increasing health problems no common potion had been able to cure finally was determined.

Six month.

Precious little time to get back at Potter, repay him for the destruction of his life and family.

Another wave of pain hit him, and he flung his hand to his chest.

Was it worth it? If something happened to Potter, he'd be carried back to Azkaban in a heartbeat. His stomach turned to a ball of ice, the pain in his chest intensified, and his hand clawed in his bare skin. Not again; he didn't want to die in prison.

He clenched his jaw against the pain and the bile that rose in his throat and left a vile taste in his mouth.

It was time to be honest with himself; Azkaban had broken him, he didn't have it in him to fight anymore. Potter had made himself enough enemies; there were more than enough among them who'd gladly take his place and send Potter to hell.

Hell surely had an especially warm place in store for the bastard.

 _t.b.c._


	82. Chapter 79

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Another round of applause to my wonderful editor Shygui who luts up with me through this seemingly never ending story.

Chapter **78** and **79** , 20/03/19

* * *

 **79**

 _ **The Rectory, May 20th 2008**_

The sun rose early in May. It was not even five in the morning when the darkness of the night became lighter and gradually shifted into the grey of dawn.

Harry let out a deep breath and got up from the upholstered chair next to the window of the master bedroom he shared with Daphne at _The Rectory._ He hadn't had a wink of sleep that night; he hadn't even tried to go to sleep last night, after Daphne had been arrested and carried off to the Ministry. Instead, his thoughts had followed her, willed her to be strong and not to break and give a false confession under the questioning that Dawlish and Roper would subject her to.

At least Anthony was with her; he'd make sure all her rights were observed. He'd be forever grateful to his old friend from D.A. days that he'd responded immediately to Harry's urgent message for assistance and the fact that he had stayed until Roper made the arrest.

There was no doubt they'd try to manipulate Daphne into a confession, most likely by any means they deemed necessary. The opportunity for Roper, and by extension Dawlish, to kill three birds with one stone was too good to be missed. They could present the magical public with the murderer of the famous Quidditch star, present themselves as strong defenders of the law, and marginalise him in the same moment, and all that without a trial, since after Daphne pleading guilty all the court had to decide about was the penalty. Though that wasn't going to be a long discussion, either: Azkaban for life would be the only possible outcome.

Not for one minute would they ask if Daphne was actually guilty…

His body tensed until his muscles quivered, and his nostrils flared. No, he wouldn't allow it, he would stop them, had to stop them. Heat consumed him, he turned around and stormed from the room, down the staircase and along the long hallway, towards the door to the terrace at the front of the house.

The portraits, roused from their slumber, called after him.

He paid them no heed, yanked the door open, and ran out of the house, down the few steps that led into the still dark park.

He ran and ran until his breath came in short puffs, loud in the quietness of the young day, and he didn't stop until he reached the wall at the other side of the park. Out of breath, he put his hands on his thighs and leaned forward. Sweet Merlin, what was he supposed to do? How could he help his Daphne?

Even ten years after the war there were still significant issues within magical Britain's government, and the DMLE was most definitely not exempt from these issues. The stories Ron had told him… He shook his head. If only they had some leverage they could get rid of Roper; it all came down to her. Her brother's gold had bought her the way to the top of the DMLE at a time when the old Pureblood networks had still been strong. During the eight years of her leadership she'd not only allegedly protected her brother's more unsavory businesses, but had also managed to cover her own tracks in doing so extremely well. Ron, Dean and Seamus were on her case since Ron had become Head Auror, discreetly, of course, and so far without success.

Now the bitch was free to use Ginny's murder for her own means, and set up Daphne as the culprit, without having to fear much opposition, since Ron had to stay away from the investigations team until the case was closed.

Daphne! How was she doing right now? Had she been given time to sleep, or had she been held in interviews all night long? She'd been so unwell ever since his return from his trip to the Continent. Thank Merlin she had Mipsy with her, the elf would have informed him through Matty and the mysterious communication channels among house elves if something was amiss.

He let out a deep breath, straightened, and looked around.

His helpless anger had carried him through the park towards the wall that separated the park from the Greengrass family cemetery. The wrought iron gate was just left of him.

Daphne came here at least once a week, often alone, at other times together with him. His need to visit the graves of their family wasn't as strong as hers, however, as he now looked at the wall that hid their graves, an overwhelming need to talk to Cyrus welled up in him. Merlin knew he could use Cyrus' advice right now!

He pushed open the iron gate. The first rays of the rising sun peeked over the wall, bathing three graves in the middle of the cemetery in a golden light. Marty and Monty, the two house elves who cared for the vast gardens of _The Rectory,_ had put up a white stone bench for Daphne in front of the three graves a couple of weeks after the tragedy, with an amazing Cushioning and Heating Charm on it.

Harry sat down on the bench and looked at the graves. Cyrus' grave came first, with Isabella to his right, and then Tori. To Cyrus' left there was some open space. He'd never asked Daphne why, he'd just known that the empty spaces were meant for Daphne and him one day.

The sun ascended, bathing more and more graves of the Greengrass' ancestors in its blazing light, until the last grey shadows of the dawn had been banished. Harry looked around; beautiful flowers adorned all the graves, and the droplets of dew on their leaves glistened in the morning sun like diamonds. It was peaceful here, and quiet. The only sounds being heard was the birdsong in the trees of the park.

The tension left his body, a soft, warm breeze dried the sweat on his face and neck, and he welcomed the chilling sensation with a deep sigh. He needed to get a grip on himself, he wouldn't be of any use to Daphne if he didn't manage to keep a cool and level head, no matter how much her arrest and the prospect of a trial for murder had freaked him out. Daphne needed him, now more than ever, and he'd be damned if he let her down.

For a very long time he looked at the grave of his late father-in-law, seeking advice from the man who had loved Daphne as much as he did in a silent, one-sided dialogue, while the sun climbed higher in the sky.

The soft breeze ruffled his hair, as if a father's hand was carding through his unruly locks, and warmth permeated his body. A reluctant smile spread over his face.

'Thank you, Cyrus,' he whispered, and got up. He cast a last, long look at the three graves. 'Don't worry, I promise I will protect her with everything I have.' Then he turned and left the cemetery. He had work to do, and he'd better get it done asap.

* * *

Ten minutes later he sat in their study and wrote a letter to Nicholas Greco. Roper and Dawlish might not be inclined to look for the real perpetrator, but they couldn't stop him from conducting his own investigations.

He cast a look at his wristwatch. It was still early, too early to call anyone or send a Patronus. However, there was one place in the wizarding world that was open for business twentyfour/seven. He'd have to talk to the Goblins, anyway, and make sure a large amount of gold from his private vault was ready and available to be transferred to the vaults of the Ministry, should Daphne be let out on bail.

Anthony was positive that bail would be granted, the judge had no legal ground to refuse the petition, even though Roper most likely would protest it. She needed to keep Daphne in her clutches, in the hopes of pressuring her into a confession. The bail amount would likely be outrageous, that much he was sure of.

Harry walked down to the living room and took the Floo to the private Floo connection Gringotts provided for their most affluent customers. Two hours later, everything was settled, and it was finally time for the next point on his agenda.

Back at _The Rectory,_ he raised his wand and sent out a number of Patroni, each of them with the same message, then went into the kitchen for a quick cup of tea and a bite of toast.

'Did Mipsy already contact you for Mistress Daphne's breakfast?' he asked while he munched on a dry slice of toast that tasted like cardboard, between sips of tea.

Matty gave him a disapproving look, and he suppressed a smile. She was miffed at him because he had refused her offer to prepare him something more substantial than dry toast. However, he knew he wouldn't have been able to get it down and keep it down.

'Matty brought Mistress Daffy her breakfast while Master Harry was still at Gringotts,' the elf answered.

A jolt went through Harry, and his fingers that held the mug became cold. 'How is she?' he asked in a low voice.

Matty's ears drooped. 'Pale and cold and very sad. Master Harry had best be getting Mistress Daffy out of there.'

'I will, Matty,' he said.

 _The Daily Prophet_ had been delivered earlier and lay on the kitchen counter; he flicked through it, nibbling on his toast as he read. The news of Ginny's death had made the headlines of the day - which was hardly surprising - and Skeeter's article all but screamed at the Auror Department to arrest someone, anyone, for her murder. There was also a short notice about a press release from the DMLE late Tuesday night, stating they were expecting to arrest the perpetrator before the day was much older. The fact that the word "alleged" was missing in that sentence didn't escape him. No doubt Daphne's impending arrest had been an established fact with Roper and Dawlish by the time of the press release. The article was one more proof - as if he needed it - that they planned to use Daphne as a means to their own ends.

What little appetite he'd had left with that thought, he emptied his mug into the kitchen sink and discarded the remains of the slice of toast into the waste bin. Another look at his wristwatch told him it was almost time.

'I'll be at headquarters for the next couple of hours, until it's time for Mistress Daphne's hearing,' he said to the elf. 'I assume that it will take some time until Mistress Daphne is released from the holding cells once bail has been determined. So have a light tea ready for her, will you, Matty? I doubt she'll be able to eat much, not with her stomach problems lately.'

The elf gave him a knowing look. 'Matty will prepare tea for Mistress Daffy.' She turned her back to Harry and began polishing the spotless kitchen counter. 'No worries, Master Harry, Mistress Daffy bes eating for two soon.'

He sighed. 'I hope so. I'm going to take her to see a healer as soon as possible. This has been going on for too long.'

In response, Matty gave him a look over her shoulder he couldn't decipher. Was the small creature laughing at him?

He shrugged, walked back into the living room and took the Floo to headquarters.

He'd expected to be the first one in the magical section's huge conference room, however, as soon as he stepped into the room a small figure flung itself at him. A mop of bushy hair in his face, he was squeezed in one of Hermione's trademark hugs.

'How are you holding up, Harry? Dean sent Ron a Patronus around midnight informing him -' She broke off, stepped back and worried her lower lip between her teeth. 'Is there anything I can do for either of you?'

Harry patted her shoulder. 'Be our friend, like you always are.'

She gave him a tremulous smile. 'I will. Ron sends his love; he's awfully sorry he can't help you, but you know how it is.'

He pulled her towards himself into a small hug. 'You've already done more than I could expect when you sent us that Patronus yesterday, Hermione. I'll be forever grateful for that. Thanks to your warning, they didn't catch us with our robes off. Daphne had her barrister with her during the interrogations, and Mipsy to take care of her and protect her for the rest of the time,' he whispered into her ear.

Hermione let out a deep breath. 'Thank Merlin! Ron was so worried for her.'

Lisa and Fleur walked towards them.

'Excuse me, Hermione,' Harry said and pulled away from her. He turned to their personal assistants. 'Will you please set up everything for the meeting?'

They nodded, and Harry walked to his place at the head of the table and sat down.

One by one, the heads of the departments of the magical part of Crystal Fairy trickled into the room and sat down at the conference table. Every face turned towards Harry, some worried, like Lisa's, Fleur's and Hermione's, some guarded, like Director McLean's, and many of them downright curious.

As soon as everyone was present, Harry cleared his throat. He was well aware of the unusual sight he presented to his subordinates. Instead of an impeccable robe of Acrumantula silk from Twilfit and Tattings over a bespoke suit from Savile Row that he usually dressed in when at work, he still wore the jeans and plaid flannel shirt he'd put on yesterday morning. The sleepless night spent in the armchair in their bedroom had done nothing to improve his looks. His shirt was rumpled, and the stubble on his chin betrayed he hadn't taken the time to shave this morning.

In fact, he'd only cast a few Hygiene Charms on himself. There was a message behind his unkempt appearance; Cyrus had taught him the importance of the messages sent out with your clothing right from the beginning of his tutoring.

Daphne hadn't taken a change of clothes with her, and there wasn't much room for personal hygiene in the Ministry's holding cells, except for a toilet bowl and a sink the inhabitants of one cell had to share. Daphne would have asked Mipsy to perform Hygiene Charms on her, and the nifty charm his wife had used on him to relieve his bladder during his stay at the _Hôtel Dieu Magique_. Besides that, she'd look as unkempt as he did this morning when she would be brought in front of the judge.

Him looking just as his wife would send a clear message to the wizarding world: they were one, and he stood by his wife and cared for her, more than he cared for his personal comfort.

Maybe that would get Skeeter or at least the lonesome one witch or wizard thinking. Hope died last, or so the saying went.

The expectant silence in the room roused him from his musings. He cleared his throat once more and looked at the expectant faces on both sides of the long table.

'I suppose you all have read the _Daily Prophet_ this morning and are aware that Ginevra Weasley, the face of the current advertising campaign of our company, has been killed.'

Murmurs of agreement and dismay went around the table.

He clenched his fists. Merlin, this was so hard. 'What is not yet in the prophet - Mrs Potter was arrested for Ms Weasley's murder late yesterday night.'

His announcement was met with shocked silence, though Hermione, Lisa, and Fleur wore resigned expressions on their faces. Of course Hermione and Fleur knew what had happened after Dean's Patronus to Ron, and they had then warned Lisa.

'You're taking the mickey!' A male voice broke the silence. 'There's no way Daphne would ever kill someone.'

Harry gave the owner of the voice a faint smile. It belonged to the Director of the Department of Human Resources and Finances, a man in his late sixties, with a circle of wiry, short hair around the bald spot on top of his head, and sharp, dark eyes. He was a long-time employee, and one of Daphne's oldest friends in the company who had taught her the secrets of the trade together with Cyrus when she was still a young girl. When Harry came into the picture, he had extended his goodwill to him and was a never-ending well of experience and good advice.

'Thank you, Raymond,' Harry said with a short nod towards the director. 'Your vote of confidence means a lot to Daphne and me.' He picked up the pitcher of water in front of him, poured himself a glass and took a sip. Merlin, he was as parched as if he'd run a mile. 'Of course Daphne didn't do it,' he said, and put his glass back on the table.

The certainty in his voice caused some raised eyebrows and a lot of whispers around the table. He met them with a frown, which was enough to subdue them.

'I'm going to take a leave of absence until Daphne is cleared of all charges. How long that will be is as yet undetermined, but my place is by her side, as you all will understand, I'm certain.'

This caused some more whispers, and his lips curled into a faint sneer. No, some of the people around him wouldn't understand why he did this. However, those who counted to him gave him approving nods: Hermione, Fleur, Lisa, but also Raymond and Directors McLean and Abbott.

'If there's anything we can do for you, just name it, Harry,' Raymond said, and Director McLean added, 'I'd better prepare a press statement, though I'm sure that won't satisfy the baying hyenas. Be prepared for a press conference tomorrow at the latest, Mr Potter.'

Harry gave McLean a short nod, and turned towards Raymond. 'Actually, you're going to bear the brunt of my decision, Raymond. You'll be my substitute for the time I'm gone.'

Raymond's eyes widened slightly. Other than that, he showed no sign of surprise. 'You can count on me, Harry.'

'Good.' Harry turned to the rest of the staff. 'Please, report to Raymond as you did to me. Raymond and I will work out a schedule to keep me up to date about everything I need to know. That's all for the time being, I think.'

Subdued murmurs and whispers broke out as the heads of department filed out of the room, though all of them stopped to shake his hand. Hermione gave him another of her rib-cracking hugs.

Harry motioned to Raymond and McLean to stay behind. Together, the three men worked out a press statement pertaining to Ginny's murder and Daphne's arrest that hopefully would keep the press out of Harry's hair for a couple of days. Another hour was spent with Raymond, while he informed him about the most important ongoing projects, and they worked out a schedule for daily meetings _._

The next hour Harry spent in a similar meeting at the Muggle part of the company, though he gave a sudden, severe illness on Daphne's part as the reason for him taking a leave of absence.

* * *

Greco walked into his office at ten o'clock sharp.

'Good morning, Mr Greco.' Harry rose from his chair with an outstretched hand. 'I have another job for you.' With a motion of his hand he invited Greco to sit down in the visitors chair.

Greco's face didn't betray any surprise. 'Did Head Auror Weasley ask you to obtain my help for some discreet investigations in the U.S.A. that bypass the official lines because the death of his sister?'

Harry startled; of course, the man had to think that, Daphne's arrest had been too late at night to make it to the newspapers yet. Though that would change soon, Lisa had informed him she'd heard on the Wizarding Wireless that Roper had scheduled a press conference around eleven about the progress of the investigations in Ginny's death that would be broadcasted by the Wizarding Wireless, and had also hinted at an arrest.

'Much worse,' he replied. 'It has not made the news yet, but yesterday night Daphne was arrested by the Head of the DMLE for Ginny's murder.'

'What?' Greco sat bolt upright and gaped at him. He blinked a couple of times, then relaxed. 'It's a political manoeuvre, of course; Roper wants to get rid of you, or your influence on the Wizengamot, to be more precise.' He made a face. 'Cyrus put me on her trail even before her promotion to Head of the DMLE was confirmed by the Wizengamot. He detested her, and was sure she and her precious brother had dirt on their hands, if not blood. Unfortunately, the Roper siblings belong to the very few people I didn't manage to unearth anything discriminating about.' He gave Harry a sharp look. 'Do you want me to investigate into Roper once again?'

Harry shook his head. 'Not into Roper, no. Daphne's lawyer informed me that the DMLE has to prove her guilt beyond any reasonable doubt. For her defence that means to dig up if Ginny had other visitors after Daphne on Monday night, or if there are people out there who might have been pissed off enough at Ginny to blow her into a wall. Given what you found out about her ongoing affair during her four marriages, I have no doubt there are. I remember that her first husband was rather put out about the compensation he had to pay her.'

Greco pulled out his notepad and biro and made some notes. ' _Cherchez l'homme_ for a change?' he asked with a faint grin over the rim of his notepad.

'Something like that, yeah, Ginny was never without a bloke in her bed for long after I broke up with her. You'd also want to look out for her lover's business connections. Rumour says his family is involved with the Italian mob, magical as well as Muggle. Maybe Ginny got involved into something, or her murder was a punishment for him.' He also told Greco what he'd learned from Director McLean about Ginny's last hours, and what Daphne had told him about her encounter with Ginny.

'Consider it done, Mr Potter.' He put away his notepad and biro. 'About the other matter we discussed the other day… I have informed my contacts in the U.S.A. and they will look into the pasts of Cadwallader and Williams, and also of Procter and Frudge. I'm afraid it is too soon for results yet.'

'I have complete trust into you, Mr Greco, you never let my father-in-law down and I have no doubt that you will continue to serve me equally as well,' Harry said and got to his feet as a sign the meeting was at an end.

Greco followed suit; thank Merlin the man had never been one of many words.

He waited until the door had closed behind Greco, picked up the phone, and looked on his wristwatch before he punched in the numbers. There was still a lot left to do until he had to leave for Daphne's hearing, so he'd better get in gear. He'd never be able to forgive himself if wasn't there for her every step of the trial she had to face.

 _t.b.c._


	83. Chapter 80

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** A huge thank you to my faithful editor Shygui, who keeps working on this story like a clockwork, even though he has little spare time. You rock!

Chapter **80** , 27/03/19

* * *

 **80**

 _ **London, May 20th 2008**_

Nicholas Greco walked down the steps of the office building of the Muggle part of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products after his meeting with Harry Potter and looked at his wristwatch. It was still early in the day; no time like the present to start the investigations Mr Potter had asked for.

He gritted his teeth; he'd watched Daphne Potter growing up from a small girl with pigtails, who played with her dolls at Cyrus' feet whenever he'd been called to _The Rectory,_ into an awkward teenager, insecure of herself and her abilities, and then into a beautiful young woman who'd made her most unwilling husband fall deeply in love with her against all odds. She didn't deserve to be made the plaything of the dubious plans of one Eugenia Roper. He'd do anything and everything within his power to get Daphne out of the clutches of that hag.

He looked around; no one was near, so he slipped into a service passage between two buildings, spun on the spot, and disappeared.

The next moment he stood at the top of _Stoadshead Hill_ and looked down at _The Burrow,_ residence of the Weasley family. Long years ago, when Arthur Weasley had been promoted Head of the Department Against Misuse of Muggle Artefacts, Cyrus had asked him to investigate the family once more. The first time he'd investigated the family had been some time after Mr Potter's return to the magical world, and when it became apparent that he was best friends with the youngest son of the Weasley family.

Cyrus' concerns had been well grounded. Mr Potter had been an impressionable eleven-year-old, new to the wizarding world, and with no clue that he was the sole heir to a vast fortune. Should they have wanted to, it would have been easy to manipulate him.

However, the Weasleys had not once shown any interest in Mr Potter's gold - except the daughter, of course. They seemed to be about the only people in the magical world who genuinely cared for the wellbeing of the young man. None of his investigations had come up with anything incriminating; quite the contrary, in fact.

He took another look at the house and its surroundings.

The house hadn't changed at all, it was still crooked in a way that defied the laws of gravity, and seemed to be held upright only by an obscene amount of Stabilising Charms, a testament to the magical strength of its owners. The apple trees in the orchard were just about to shed their blossoms, and the odd chicken scratched in the dirt of the overgrown vegetable beds that seemed to be developed to an impossible degree for this time of the year.

He walked down the hill towards the house and rang the bell at the front door; it took some time until the sound of slow, dragging steps behind the door indicated someone was going to answer.

It was Arthur Weasley; Nicholas almost flinched back as his eyes fell on the man, and he gulped. Arthur Weasley looked as if he'd aged twenty years since he last saw him at the Ministry a couple of weeks ago. He cleared his throat. 'Mr Weasley? My name is Nicholas Greco. I'm a private investigator. Mr Potter contracted me to investigate the death of your daughter,' he said in a calm voice.

'Harry sent you?' a woman's voice asked. 'Why? Ginny's murderess has been arrested we've been told this morning.'

Nicholas looked around the Weasley patriarch. A plump woman with grey tinged red hair walked down the hallway, her chocolate brown eyes red rimmed and puffy from too much crying. The likeness to the dead Quidditch star was faint, but it was there. Molly Weasley, the mother of the victim. She'd also changed horribly since he last saw her when he made his first investigation into the Weasley family. The happy, bustling woman he remembered was no more; in front of him stood an old woman, and even though she had kept her plumpness, her skin hung down from her cheeks and arms as if it belonged to a bigger person.

'Well, Mrs Weasley, if you've been told about the arrest, you probably also know that the DMLE accuses Mrs Potter of having killed your daughter. Mr Potter, however, doesn't believe that. He contracted me to investigate the last hours of Ms Ginevra Weasley's life and find the real culprit.'

Molly Weasley's pale cheeks became crimson. She raised her arm and pointed towards the gate of the property. 'Out! Leave and never come back! The murderess of my Ginny has already been found and arrested! That bitch said at Veterans Ball right in front of me that she was going to kill her, and she made good on her threat a week later!'

Arthur Weasley heaved a deep and heavy sigh. Languidly as though the weight of the world rested atop his body, he turned around and put both hands on the shoulders of his wife and said in a voice laden with despair, 'Stop it, Molly. I already told you that you made a dangerous mistake when you yelled out these accusations in Dawlish' presence. Harry has killed V-Voldemort, and strives to better our world, but there are still more old Pureblood alliances at work in the Ministry than you know. Dawlish belongs to one of them, and he acted on your accusations and arrested Daphne because it fit into his agenda. I'd be surprised if there was any more evidence that implicated Daphne than their encounter at the ball.'

He took a deep breath, as if gathering strength, and squeezed the shoulders of his still enraged looking wife. 'I'm going to give Daphne the benefit of the doubt, Molly, and if Harry wants to do his own investigations into Ginny's death, that's alright with me. Given the way the DMLE has handled the case so far I doubt Daphne is going to have a fair trial. I'd not be surprised if soon the oh so conventional unnamed sources in the D.M.L.E. will leak information about the case and seemingly damning tidbits about Daphne's character and her marriage to Harry will be spread next.'

Molly Weasley shook his hands from her shoulders, huffed and glared at her husband. 'I told you that family is bad news the day Harry got that owl from Cyrus Greengrass, Arthur. Instead of listening to me, you encouraged the boy to get into contact with him. His brother was a Death Eater, for Merlin's sake! See where your weakness got us! Ginny would still be alive, had Harry married her, as he should have, instead of that bitch!' With that she turned around and stomped back into the house.

Arthur Weasley gave Nicholas a weak smile. 'So much for the willingness of my wife to cooperate.' He pointed towards a bench next to the front door. 'Let's sit down there and talk; I highly doubt Molly will take it kindly right now if I invited you into the living room.'

He stepped out of the house and closed the door behind him. The two men sat down on the bench.

'How can I help Harry and Daphne, Mr Greco?'

Nicholas sucked in a quick breath, and did a mental reassessment of the man who sat before him. Now, this was interesting. While he could understand Molly Weasley's hostility to a certain degree, he hadn't counted on Arthur Weasley openly opposing his wife and offering his cooperation so easily. Molly Weasley had the reputation of a rash, stubborn harridan in the wizarding world, and Arthur Weasley was perceived to be mild-mannered, and well, for want of a better word, was pussy whipped.

Given the public observations regarding Molly Weasley seemed to be accurate, though he'd have to give the woman some slack for the grief she was so obviously going through, it appeared that the public had seriously underestimated the Senior Weasley male. Arthur Weasley seemed to have more backbone than anyone gave him credit for.

As if he read his thoughts, a faint smile appeared on Arthur Weasley's grief-lined face. 'Contrary to my wife I never thought Harry and Ginny would make a good match; they were too different. The moment I saw him together with Daphne, however, and got to know her, I knew she was perfect for him. It took some time for Harry to notice that, too, but in the end he managed to pull his head out of his arse.' He chuckled quietly.

Nicholas joined his laughter. 'I know what you mean, Mr Weasley. I've watched those two together and often thought the same.'

He sobered and pulled out his notepad and biro from the pocket of his Muggle suit. 'What can you tell me about the life of your daughter, Mr Weasley?'

Arthur Weasley heaved another big sigh. 'Not much, I'm afraid. You see, the last war had a horrible impact on my family, and especially on Ginny. She and Harry were Hogwarts sweethearts in her fifth year and his sixth. He broke up with her after Dumbledore was murdered and then left on his mysterious quest, together with my youngest son and his wife. Ginny was forced to return to Hogwarts. When she came back home for Christmas that year, she had become… distant. Oh, she'd still be affectionate, but she wouldn't share her thoughts and dreams with us any longer.'

He wiped away a tear from the corner of his eye. 'It wasn't any better when she returned for Easter break. We had to go into hiding, and she'd hole herself up in her room for hours. Then came the Battle of Hogwarts.' He took out his handkerchief, blew his nose, and Banished the handkerchief away with a short flick of his wand.

'Our whole family fought in the battle. Fred, the older one of our twins, got killed. It almost destroyed Molly. Ginny was grieving, too; we all were grieving and trying to pick up the pieces of our lives after the war. Ginny and Harry got back together after the battle. I guess it was their way to cope and move on.' He paused. 'However, something was off with Ginny. The way she used to look at Harry sometimes… Like a Kneazle watching a mouse. It was as if she resented him for some perceived wrongdoing he had no idea he had committed, and waited for her chance to strike. That was when I knew they had no future together, and that Harry, if he pursued the relationship with my daughter, was in for a lot of grief and tears.'

He pressed his lips into a thin line and looked at Nicholas. 'I love - loved - my daughter, but I also love Harry. How do you tell a young man who has become like a son to you that the girl he's madly in love with is bad news, especially if said girl is your own daughter you ought to cherish?'

'I suppose that's impossible,' Nicholas said.

Arthur Weasley let out a harsh laugh. 'Tell me about that. When Cyrus Greengrass brought up the family agreement between his daughter and Harry, I thought it was heaven sent, and encouraged Harry to let go of Ginny and make the best of his relationship with Daphne.' A smile crept over his face. 'It was my most successful attempt to influence the future of one of my children, if I may say so.'

The next moment, his face became sober. 'I wasn't that successful with Ginny. She became even more distant the moment Harry told us of his decision to marry Daphne. A couple of weeks later she told us that she'd signed a contract to play for a Quidditch team in the States. She was of age, so we could do nothing about it, and I thought that maybe new surroundings with new friends would help her to overcome her demons.'

He paused once again. 'That was before I learned that man came with her.'

Nicholas eyebrows rose up at that. Of course he knew about Ginny Weasley's secret relationship with a Slytherin while she was supposed to be Mr Potter's steady girlfriend. It had been damned hard to catch her in the act, so to speak. He wouldn't have thought Arthur Weasley had known, too.

'That man?'

'Blaise Zabini, Ginny's agent,' Arthur said in a curt voice. 'I had no idea she … had something going on with him, until I overheard them one night in the orchard while Harry and Daphne were on their honeymoon. It was quite enlightening. Obviously they'd become an item sometime during that last year at Hogwarts, and had planned relieving poor Harry of a lot of his gold by Ginny marrying him and filing for divorce a couple of years later. Well, that ship had sailed when Cyrus Greengrass butted in. I'll be forever thankful for that.'

He crossed his legs and folded his hands over one knee. 'Obviously, Ginny and Zabini modified their plan and implemented in the U.S.A. what they had planned to do to Harry, going by the number of rich husbands my daughter went through in the last ten years.' He gave a bitter laugh. 'As I said before, I loved my daughter, but I was also ashamed of her. It's a horrible thing to feel both at the same time, I can tell you. And I detested the man she was secretly with. At least they stayed in the U.S.A., so Molly never had to find out what had become of her little girl.'

'However, she came back,' Nicholas said.

Arthur Weasley sighed. 'She came back. The woman she had become had nothing of the little girl I once knew. During the last ten years, we'd had little contact. Ginny hardly ever wrote. She eloped with her first husband, though Molly and I were invited to her second and third weddings. Number four was an elopement once again. She divorced him before we'd even met him once.' He put both feet on the ground, propped his elbows on his thighs and leaned forward, covering his face with the palms of his hands.

Nicholas waited in silence until he was ready to talk again.

When Arthur Weasley pulled his hands off his face, straightened, and looked at Nicholas again, his eyes were red-rimmed, but dry. 'We heard of her return the day before the Veterans Ball. At the day of the ball, we went as a family, except for Ron and Hermione, who also were in the Minister's party that night, though they came to our house first and Flooed from here to the hotel. Ginny and her date also came to _The Burrow_ to meet with us. Zabini escorted her that night. The moment I saw them, I knew their relationship was stronger than ever. They acted like a long-married couple, you know, one seemed to understand the other one blind and without words.'

'I know what you mean, Mr Weasley, I've also been married for many years.'

'Good.' Arthur Weasley gave him a long, hard stare. 'I tell you, Mr Greco, that man is bad news. He dragged my little girl onto a path that destroyed her in the end. You've probably heard of the reputation of his family. While I have to give Zabini that his name was never involved with illegal businesses, I also know that mob families always have a legal storefront, so to speak, to launder the dirty money. What is better suited for that than Zabini's involvement in the Quidditch circus? Ginny is … was … not the only player he has under contract. A lot of money is going through his hands, from the teams and from companies for advertising contracts. He might also be involved in bets and manipulating games, for all that I know. I'm sure Ginny would have known about that, as close as they were. What if she had to die because of that?'

Nicholas closed his notebook and put it away. 'You've given that a lot of thought, Mr Weasley.'

'I thought of little else ever since we got the news of Ginny's death.' Arthur Weasley's voice sounded hoarse, and he didn't look at Nicholas.

'May I ask for a last favour, Mr Weasley?'

Arthur Weasley turned his head and looked at Nicholas from watery eyes. 'That is?'

'May I have a look at Ms Weasley's last residence as soon as the investigators from the Auror Department are finished and Ms Weasley's estate has been released? I suppose you and Mrs Weasley are her obvious heirs, since she wasn't married and had no children.'

The eyes of the other man spilled over. 'Her estate has already been released. Madam Roper told us the investigations had been wrapped up when she informed us of Daphne's arrest.'

Nicholas' stomach tied itself into an icy knot. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. What, by Merlin's balls, had got into Roper? By no means the Auror Department could have performed a thorough investigation of a place as big as _Stinchcombe Hall_ in such a short time. And what about the body? He almost didn't dare to ask.

'Has the body been released, too?'

'Yes.' Arthur Weasley nodded. 'You'll have to ask my son Ronald about that. He was with us when Madam Roper told us, and for some reason he didn't seem to be happy about it. When Madam Roper was gone, he and Bill, our eldest, offered to take care of the preparations for the funeral. To be honest, I am thankful for that. Neither Molly nor I are in any shape for that at the moment.'

'I imagine.' Nicholas let out a long, silent breath. If Head Auror Weasley had taken charge of the body, there was hope there was still some evidence left. He looked at Arthur Weasley. 'Do you mind if I have a look at the house this afternoon?'

'Of course not. I'll send a Patronus to inform the head house elf. Ginny had rented _Stinchcombe Hall_ from the Potter estate, so the elves are of course Harry's, but the rent for the house is paid until the end of the month, and the elves will answer to me until then.'

'Thank you, Mr Weasley.' Nicholas stood up and held his hand out to the man. 'I cannot fathom what you are going through at this moment, but I thank you sincerely on behalf of the Potters for your help, I am hopeful that some of what you have shared with me today will help us apprehend your daughter real killer.'

'I'd do anything to help finding the real murderer of my daughter,' Arthur Weasley replied, and shook his hand.

* * *

 _ **Oxford, May 20th 2008**_

Head Auror Ronald Weasley and his wife lived in a well-maintained two-story Victorian house with gingerbread stucco at the gable in an all Muggle neighbourhood in a sought-after part of Oxford.

Nicholas let out a low, appreciative whistle as he walked down the flagstone path that led to the main entrance of the house. He made most of his business with financial background checks for a number of clients, magical as well as Muggle, so he was well versed in the Muggle real estate market. Houses in this part of Oxford didn't come cheap, especially not a house as picturesque as this one. He'd conservatively estimate the market value of the place at two million Muggle pounds at least.

Quite a lot of dough for a Head Auror and a Potions Mistress, which amounted to a police captain and a graduate chemist in the Muggle world. However, he'd read somewhere that Mrs Granger-Weasley's parents were well-off Muggles. Maybe the house came from her side of the family, its location within a Muggle neighbourhood lent credence to that theory.

Head Auror Weasley opened the door. No surprise there, his forced leave of absence as long as the case of his sister wasn't closed, due to the new rules about conflict of interest that had been implemented a couple of years ago, had led to another uninformed article by one Rita Skeeter in today's _Daily Prophet._

'Nicholas?' Weasley's ginger brows shot up as he recognized him. 'What brings you here?'

Nicholas motioned with his hand towards the inside of the house. 'That's a long story and better told in private. May I come in?'

'Of course.'

Weasley held the door open, and Nicholas stepped into a sunlit, glassed porch.

'Let's talk in the family room. Rosie's playing in the conservatory. Merlin only knows with what she'll come up with if I don't keep an eye on her,' Weasley said and led the way to an airy room at the back of the house. Comfortable upholstered leather armchairs and couches stood around an open fireplace, and bookcases, overflowing with books, lined the walls of the room. Tall double glass doors led towards a sunny conservatory. On the floor of the conservatory sat a little girl, still a toddler, on a colourful blanket, a picture book in her lap. She didn't look up when her father and Nicholas entered the living room.

'It's a new book; hopefully it'll keep her occupied for some time,' Weasley said, and motioned with his hand for Nicholas to sit down in one of the comfortable armchairs near the fireplace. 'Well?' he asked, as soon as they had sat down.

Nicholas cleared his throat. 'First, let me give you my heartfelt condolences, Ron.'

Weasley lowered his head and swallowed. 'Thank you, Nicholas.' His voice sounded hoarse. 'Though, it seems to me I lost my little sister already a long time ago.'

'Your father said almost the same.'

Weasley's head jerked up. 'Did he? Well, dad is very observant, though he rarely lets on.' He gave Nicholas a sharp look. 'Since you talked to my father, I take it that Harry employed you to investigate the death of my sister?'

'Mr Potter engaged my services this morning.'

'Good.' Weasley let out a deep breath. 'Then there's hope the real murderer of my sister will be found. Trust Harry to keep a level head in a crisis and do what needs to be done.'

Nicholas pulled out his notepad and biro. 'So you don't believe that Mrs Potter killed your sister?'

'Daphne? Ridiculous. Mind you, she can become really bitchy if a woman is flirting with Harry, even though Harry has never given her any reason to doubt his fidelity. I'm not surprised about what she did to Ginny at the Veterans Ball; she marked her claim on Harry and wasn't subtle about it. My sister wouldn't have understood anything else.'

'What exactly happened at Veterans Ball between Mrs Potter and Ms Weasley?'

Weasley raised his hands, palms upwards, in a gesture of cluelessness. 'I wasn't there, so I don't know; you'll have to ask the witches about that.'

'The witches?' Nicholas regarded him with an amused smile.

'Hermione, my wife, Fleur Weasley, my sister-in-law, and Lisa Finch-Fletchley. They are all best friends with Daphne.'

Nicholas jotted down the names. 'What do you know about the last ten years of the life of your sister, Ron?'

Weasley sighed, leaned back in his chair and rubbed a hand down over his face. 'Not as much as I should have known, and most of what I know is hearsay. I lived with her in the same house for about two weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts. Hermione and I left after that for Australia to search for Hermione's parents. When we returned, Harry was married to Daphne, and Ginny was already in the U.S.A. I only saw her twice in all these years; once Christmas ninety-eight, when she visited _The Burrow_ to present her first husband, and another time in autumn two-thousand-four. We had dinner together while I was at a conference at Taos.'

'You didn't meet her after her return to England?'

'Well, I saw her at _The Burrow_ when the family met for the Veterans Ball. She was at our table, too. Though, I didn't talk to her much that night, least of all after her little stunt with Harry on the dance floor. I probably would have yelled at her then.' His face became taut. 'That night's the last time I saw her alive.'

Nicholas cleared his throat. 'I'm sorry to hear that.' He flipped the page of his notebook to a new one. 'What can you tell me about the relationship between your sister and Mr Potter?'

'What relationship?' Weasley asked back with a wry grin that didn't meet his eyes. 'They were sweethearts at Hogwarts at the end of Harry's and my sixth year. Maybe that could have developed into something serious, if the war hadn't come between them. Harry broke up with Ginny for her safety, noble prat that he is. I've been told Ginny had another boyfriend while Harry was on the run and she in Hogwarts. Yet they got back together after the war. Although anyone could see that was doomed to fail.'

'Your mother had the impression Mr Potter would have married your sister, if Mrs Potter hadn't come between them.'

Weasley nodded. 'Most likely. And most likely they'd be divorced by now. I don't doubt Harry cared for Ginny back then, but it wasn't enough, you know. Their relationship never went beyond the physical. Ginny was his first girlfriend, an exercise sheet in relationship matters, if you get my drift.'

Nicholas laughed out loud at that. 'I think I do. I also had my first girlfriend once - a long time ago.'

Weasley joined his laughter. 'So did I.' He made a face. 'Today we can both laugh about it when we meet.' He sobered. 'Harry and Ginny, however …' His voice trailed off.

Nicholas leaned back in his chair and waited for Weasley to end his train of thought.

'Their relationship didn't come to a natural end either time. First Harry ended it because he didn't want to endanger Ginny, then he had to marry Daphne and ended it for a second time. Harry's feelings for Ginny eventually faded away at the same rate he discovered his feelings for Daphne. He eventually found closure from whatever there had been between him and Ginny. My sister, on the other hand…' Weasley shook his head and paused again. 'I don't think she ever gave up on Harry. Why else would she throw herself at him the moment she returned to England?'

'It seems your father's not the only observant one in your family, Ron.' Nicholas smiled and closed his notebook. 'I have one last question, however. Your father mentioned you and your brother Bill offered to take care of the preparations for Ms Weasley's funeral. Is it possible to let a healer trained in magical forensics look at her body before the funeral?'

Weasley gave him a grim smile. 'I've got something even better for body of my sister hadn't been moved from the crime scenewhen Roper told my parents this morning she'd just wrapped up the investigation; she wasn't aware I was in the kitchen of _The Burrow_ and heard every word. It was then that I realised that Dawlish had not even followed any of the protocols for homicides.' Weasley shook his head disgustedly and continued, 'I called in a few favours from the Department of Mysteries. They are running diagnostics on my sister's body in situ as we speak and will then conduct a full autopsy. Tell Harry I'll send him a copy of the report the moment I get it.'

 _t.b.c._


	84. Chapter 81

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Another big thank you to my fantastic editor Shygui.

Chapter **81** to **83** , 3/4/2019

* * *

 **81**

 _ **The Ministry of Magic, May 20th 2008**_

A cacophony of voices greeted him like a solid wall of sound as he appeared on the Apparition Point in the Ministry of Magic's atrium.

Long rows of wizard and witches stood in front of the security checkpoint, waiting for admittance, while they talked to the people to their left and right in loud, excited voices. Scraps of their conversations reached his ears; it seemed they'd all come to the Ministry to witness the hearing in the arrest of the murderer of the famous Quidditch star Ginny Weasley. No "alleged" here, either. The guilt of the prisoner had already been predetermined in the court of public opinion by the outraged masses.

Harry clenched his teeth and pushed down his irritation. Evidently, the news that someone had been arrested for Ginny's murder and that their initial hearing was to be conducted by a committing magistrate today had made the rounds soon after the press conference held by the DMLE. He navigated his way past the general public lines to the security checkpoint for employees of the Ministry and members of the Wizengamot.

'Look, there he is,' a female voice shouted, and the room went quiet, while all faces turned towards him. 'Harry, I hope you're going to send that bitch you're married to to hell!' Another voice shouted from the security of the anonymity the mass of wizards and witches provided. The suggestion was met with loud applause from a vast majority of the crowd.

The muscles in Harry's neck stiffened, and he balled his fists, so as not to draw his wand. It was unsurprising that the news of Daphne's arrest was already out and widespread. Roper really had lost no time allowing a leak to occur and had the full name of the arrested become public knowledge, against everything the Wizengamot had implemented over the last ten years to protect the privacy of the victim as well as of the accused during a criminal investigation. He gritted his teeth, squared his shoulders, and shrugged off the hurtful comments and the heartless laughter. Nothing would be gained from him losing his composure and giving into his temptation to hex the bloody lot of them.

He breathed a deep sigh as soon as he had passed the security checkpoint. But he may have relaxed to soon, given that walking down to the courtrooms was like running the gauntlet. It seemed as if every employee of the Ministry had made their way to the entrance to have a look at him. The many hushed whispers that followed him did nothing to lighten his mood.

His mood darkened further when he stepped out of the elevator on level ten, where all of the courtrooms were situated. The hallway in front of the courtrooms was packed with reporters, magazines and newspapers from all over the world jostled for position as soon as they recognised him. Flashes of light blinded him as he approached, and the smell of burnt magnesia assaulted his nose.

Of course, somehow Skeeter had managed to position herself in the front row. 'Harry, dear, are you going to divorce your wife after she murdered the love of your life?'

Something exploded within him. A wave of heat shot through his body, red, hot spots appeared before his eyes, his pulse roared in his ears, and in the next moment he'd grabbed Skeeter by the expensive collar of Niffler fur on her robes and yanked her towards him. 'Shut up, Rita.'

She blanched, and her mouth fell open.

He pushed her back into the mass of reporters in front of him with every ounce of strength he possessed. Skeeter was catapulted backwards, banged into two foreign looking reporters who stood very close to another, and slid to the ground. The foreign reporters were pushed back by the impact and also lost their footing, thus causing those who stood behind them falling down with them.

Harry looked at the domino effect he had created, a grim smile around his mouth, and pointed his wand into the air. Screw McLean and his carefully constructed press statements.

 _Bang!_

The room fell silent.

'As you are all probably aware of by now, my wife was arrested for the alleged murder of Ginny Weasley. I would, however, like to remind you of the benefit of the doubt she is entitled to by law until she has been tried in front of a legitimate court. Unfortunately, it appears that some of you seem to lack of the appropriate understanding of that fundamental human right.'

He glared down at Skeeter, who was still on the ground, and actually scrambled backwards on her behind, wilting under his heated glare.

'I should also like to point out that I am convinced my wife is innocent and was in no way involved in Ginny's death. I'm well aware that certain members of the British press have made thinly veiled hints about a love triangle between Ginny, Daphne and me, and that Daphne was arrested on the assumption that she acted out of jealousy because I was going to leave her for Ginny.' Once again he glared down at Skeeter, who tried to scramble away even further.

'I state categorically, here and now, that nothing could be farther from the truth.' The eyes of the reporters were glued to him, and almost everyone was jotting down on a notepad while he spoke.

'Ginny Weasley was my girlfriend ten years ago, nothing more. I broke up with her before I married Daphne, hardly ever saw her since then, and had no intention… zero, none, nadda, zilch,' - he looked around, glaring at the throng of press - 'of returning to her. And she as sure as hell never was my mistress.' He spat the last word, then took a deep breath to calm himself. An outburst of accidental, rage-filled magic in front of the international press wouldn't do anything to help Daphne's case.

When he spoke again, his voice was much calmer. 'I reiterate, I had no intention of leaving Daphne for Ginny, and I certainly have no intention to divorce my wife, whom I love deeply, for a crime she didn't commit. I suppose that answers Ms Skeeters utterly idiotic question. Now, if you'll excuse me, my wife needs my support and I have every intention of offering it to her.'

He turned towards the door of the courtroom, and the solid wall of reporters in front of him parted like the waters of the Red Sea.

The courtroom was filled to capacity with curious onlookers who'd come to gawk at Daphne. At a table in front of the judge's bench Roper sifted through a stack of papers.

Harry's stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. So, she'd come herself today, instead of pawning off the hearings in front of the committing magistrate to a subordinate, as she usually did. It was just another sign of how dead-set in her mindset the woman was, she would definitely be angling to have Daphne sent to Azkaban. Well, he shouldn't be surprised by that.

His eyes scanned the room looking for Anthony, and found him sitting in the front row, also occupied with papers.

When Harry sat down next to him, he looked up and held his hand out to Harry in greeting. 'How are you holding up, Harry?'

Harry replied with an imperceptible twist of his mouth, mindful of the many eyes in the room and the throng of reporters that had followed him into the courtroom in anticipation of a second show.

'That bad, uh?' Anthony said with a raised eyebrow. 'Don't worry, we'll get her out of here; Roper has no grounds to keep her longer.' He lowered his voice. 'From what I got from Daphne's interview last night, Roper's case relies almost entirely on Mrs Weasley's grief-driven accusations and your house elves' statement that Daphne had disarmed and bound Ginny on Monday afternoon. Without additional evidence that points at Daphne she doesn't have enough to keep her in the holding cells, let alone to get a guilty verdict in a trial, especially since Ginny was obviously expecting a visitor that night, as her order to the elves to prepare a dinner for two and leave it under Stasis Charms in the dining room indicates. I bet she was expecting a lover and counting on a quickie for starters. My gold is on him being the murderer.'

'Let's hope you're right,' Harry said with a deep sigh.

A door behind the judge's bench opened, and the room fell silent as the judge took his place, a tall, dark skinned man with greying hair at the temples, and a calm demeanour.

Anthony let out a long breath. 'Judge Robins; that's good, he's one of your supporters at the Wizengamot, isn't he?'

Harry nodded, the next second, however, his attention was distracted by another door at the side of the room opening. Escorted by an Auror, Daphne was led into the room.

She looked every bit as unkempt and exhausted as he had expected. Her plaid shirt was rumpled, her beautiful blonde hair was a dishevelled mess, and her face had an unhealthy greenish hue, with large dark bags under her eyes. Tiny beads of sweat glistened on her upper lip and her cheeks, but there was a pugnacious gleam in her eyes.

A smile flickered across his face; his Daphne was not yet broken, she was still fighting, Roper hadn't managed to get at her, thanks to their precautions. Their eyes met, and the whole courtroom with the many curious onlookers faded into the background. A spark of warmth ignited in his chest and spread from there all over his body.

'I love you,' he mouthed, and was rewarded with a small smile and a mouthed "me too".

Anthony took his place beside Daphne, and the judge opened the session. The hearing in front of the magistrates court then turned into a rather dull affair. Anthony petitioned for inspection of records, which was granted, although Roper tried to contest that, and a date for the start of the actual trial in front of a yet to determined panel of judges from members of the Wizengamot was set for the second of June.

The muscles in Harry's neck stiffened, and his hands clenched to fists by his side. Damn it, that was much sooner than they had counted on and left them only little time to prepare a decent defence for Daphne - something Roper was very pleased with, if her smug smile was anything to go by.

Next, the amount of the bail had to be determined by the presiding judge.

Roper was in high form. 'Your Honour, the accused is a very rich woman. In spite of the amount of bail that is determined, it still is to be feared that she will escape prosecution by leaving the country. Thus I demand that not only her wand will be confiscated, but that her magic be bound.'

A gasp went through the courtroom at that outrageous demand. By law, only the magic of magical creatures could be bound if a number of circumstances occurred. Daphne's case, however, warranted nothing of that, and Anthony didn't hesitate to point that out.

'Denied,' Judge Robins said and banged his gavel to restore order in the courtroom. He turned towards Daphne. 'Mrs Potter, I know that because of your wealth there is no big difference if I determine a bail of one Galleon or ten million Galleons. Thus, I determine a bail of one million Galleons sufficient. However, your wand will be confiscated and you'll have to stay within the confines of your estate and are only allowed to leave to see a healer or your barristers. Furthermore, visitors will only be permitted by approval of the court; you'll have to submit a list with the names in advance.'

Daphne nodded, and Harry let his wand slip into his hand, cast his Patronus and leaned forward to give the ethereal stag his message for the Goblins. Loud _ahs_ and _ohs_ echoed through the courtroom at the sight of the live-sized, almost solid looking silvery Patronus, and Judge Robins had to employ his gavel again. Two minutes later, a Goblin walked into the room and presented a letter from Gringotts to the judge.

Judge Robins read the letter and looked at Daphne over the rim of the parchment. 'The letter states that a million Galleons have been transferred into the vaults of the Ministry. You are free to go home, Mrs Potter.'

'Thank you, Judge Robins,' Daphne said. She held herself upright, not even the slightest sagging of her shoulders betrayed the relief she had to feel.

Anthony offered his arm, which she accepted, and he led her towards Harry. Two Aurors followed them.

One looked straight at Harry and gave him a covert wink. Harry recognised Dean Thomas, and Seamus Finnegan right by his side, and his chest became lighter. Roper might have the upper hand right now, but he still had friends in the Auror Department who'd help him watch each of her steps.

He followed the example of his wife and watched her approach, his head held high, though his heart was going to jump out of his throat. The moment Daphne was by his side, however, he let go of his restrain, pulled her into his arms, and pressed a kiss into her silky hair that still held a trace of the spicy fragrance that was oh so Daphne. She threw both arms around him and clung to him as if she never wanted to let him go. Neither of them heeded the yelled questions from the reporters in the courtroom, nor the photographers who shot photo after photo, the soft whump of magical flashes melding together to drown out the other sounds as they filled the courtroom with their purple smoke.

His arm still around his wife, he led her out of the courtroom, the Aurors close at their heels. Though Daphne seemed calm on the outside, small tremors ran through her body, and she pressed herself against him as close as possible.

Outside, even more reporters waited for them, and once again Harry was blinded by a thunderstorm of camera flashes, while questions were hurtled at them, each droning the other out so that he couldn't make a single coherent sentence from any of them.

'Harry, is it true that -'

'Mrs Potter, why did you -'

Harry let his wand slip in his hand and glared at the reporters. He wouldn't hesitate to blast their way through them if they didn't let them pass, restraint be damned.

Thank Merlin he didn't have to resort to violence. Dean and Seamus pushed their way past them, their wands drawn, and ordered the obnoxious mass to step back. Shouts of protest followed, but at the sight of the wands and the no-nonsense look on the faces of the two young yet experienced Aurors they obeyed.

Two minutes later, they had reached the Apparition Point in the atrium.

'We have orders to come with you and guard your private Apparition Point,' Dean said, and let his wand slip back into its holster. 'Two more Aurors will guard the gate to your estate. That means Seamus and I will Apparate first, then you and Daphne will follow.'

Harry nodded. Dean and Seamus stepped into the circle and vanished. Harry gave them a few seconds to leave the Apparition Point at _The Rectory,_ then followed suit with Daphne in his arm.

 _t.b.c._


	85. Chapter 82

**Disclaimer** : Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes** : Another big thank you to my fantastic editor Shygui.

Chapter **81** to 84, 3/4/2019

* * *

 **82**

 _ **Stinchcombe Hall, May 20th 2008**_

Nicholas paused in the doorway, tugging on his muggle latex gloves, and looked around the master bedroom of _Stinchcombe Hall._ The room was huge; probably as big as the first floor of the small house he and Elizabeth had bought when they married thirty-five years ago. It was that big that the oversized four-poster-bed at one wall actually looked small.

His gaze eventually returned to the bed after taking in the rest of the overtly opulent room. The satin sheets were askew and had been pulled partially from the bed, a lamp on one of he bedside tables was turned over and its glass shade broken. At a first glance it could appear like it was from a vigorous bout of sex, but equally plausible was that a fight had actually taken place in the room.

He narrowed his eyes and studied the walls. Mr Potter had told him that the man who'd found the victim had said she'd been blown into a wall of her bedroom. That was a possible explanation for her death, but it was best not to jump to conclusions, every possibility should be investigated. Had an impact with the wall really been the cause of her death? One could easily think so; a Blasting Hex to the body from short distance could cause severe damage, not to mention that the impact of the skull on a wall could crack it open like a watermelon that fell on the pavement. If it was the cause of death there should be telltale signs on the wall, or the floor.

The walls of the room were covered with a subtle shimmering, cream-coloured silk wallpaper with a pattern of peach blossoms strewn all over. Careful inspection though revealed that there was indeed a faint smear of blood on the wall next to the bed, however, there was nothing on the thick, cream-coloured carpet that covered the floor. If a Blasting Hex had been the cause of death, as Mr Potter had supposed, there should be significantly more blood.

Something was definitely not right here. Hopefully thanks to Head Auror Weasley's quick thinking and obtaining a private autopsy, the examiners findings would shed some light on the cause of death and give them a good estimation of the time of death. Though it was probably too much to hope for, given it was more than twenty-four hours after the body had been discovered. Merlin only knew how much evidence Dawlish' unprofessional investigations had destroyed as he trampled through the scene like an erumpent in full rut.

He stepped around the room, inspecting everything that caught his eye as he continued his musings. He shouldn't be surprised by that, Dawlish was next to useless in the subtle art of crime scene investigation, the man was old school, a firm believer that the few magical means of investigation wizardkind had developed were enough, and he was one who had opposed vehemently any attempt to introduce a scientific approach, like the Muggles had so successfully developed. Of course he'd scorned every development that had been made in the Auror Department over the last ten years and hardly been subtle about it.

He took a couple of pictures and waved his wand across the room in a complicated pattern. There was no sign of recent use of strong magic. So much for the Blasting Curse as the cause of death.

Deep in thought, he left the bedroom.

The private living room connected to the bedroom was a sunny, cheerful room. The tall windows overlooked the formal garden at the back of the house and the lake beyond, the room was decorated in the same peaches-and-cream colour scheme as the bedroom. A huge lounge, covered with peach-coloured velvet, took up one corner of the room. On a dainty, white bureau with spindle legs and gilded edges at the wall opposite to the lounge lay a small, leather bound book, with the initials G.W. embossed on the front cover in gold.

Her diary?

Nicholas walked to the desk, took a couple of more photos, waved his wand over it to collect the fingerprints just in case, and picked up the small book.

It was the appointment calendar of the victim. He shook his head; how by Merlin's saggy balls could Dawlish have overlooked such an important piece of evidence?

He sighed as he remembered the capabilities of the man in question; quite easily, actually, had the moron only investigated the bedroom. He bagged the book into one of his self indexing evidence bags and pocketed the calendar for later study.

His investigation of the walk-in wardrobe that adjoined the private living room brought no new insights, except that the victim had obviously loved a high-maintenance-lifestyle. The collection of designer clothes, wizarding as well as Muggle, that filled the overflowing shelves was of an impressive opulence. If the clothing had been impressive, then the collection of jewelry in the safe of the wardrobe that the head elf opened for him was spectacular.

A sudden idea hit him. 'Is anything missing from Ms Weasley's safe?' he asked the elf.

The small creature took another peek into the safe and nodded. 'Missy Weezy put a big brown envelope with a pretty red stamp here. It bes not here anymore.'

The hair at the nape of Nicholas' neck rose. Arthur Weasley's suspicions all of a sudden had a decisive air of truth about them. What had been in that envelope? More importantly: what had become of it? Had it been taken out of the safe by the victim for some mundane purpose? Or had the envelope contained something important, maybe even something incriminating that would identify her murderer, so had he taken it with him? Was that envelope maybe even the cause for the murder?

Questions and more questions popped into his head. He pulled out his notepad and made detailed notes, then turned to the next room of the sumptuous suite.

The investigation of the bathroom revealed another interesting detail about the life of the victim that wasn't public knowledge. There was the expected array of first-class beauty products, and the cabinet contained a row of vials with Contraceptive Potions and Nutrient Potions, things that he would expect to find in the bathroom cabinet of a female athlete. Below that, however, was a row of custom-brewed Pain Relief Potions. The vials bore the labels of an apothecary in Taos, and indicated they had been brewed following the prescription of a healer with a practise in Taos. The team-healer of the Taos Tornados perhaps?

If he remembered his background information correctly, Ginny Weasley had been involved in some spectacular Quidditch accidents during her time with the Taos Tornados, but seemed to have shaken off the potential season or career ending injuries without problems, and was on her broom again and scoring goals for her team an unbelievable short time later. It was that sort of spunk that had earned her the adoration and undying loyalty of Quidditch fans world wide.

Nicholas eyed the long row of vials with Pain Relief Potion speculatively, his chin burrowed in his hand, and a deep scowl on his face. How much of that world renowned spunk had been found at the bottom of one of these vials? How potent were the potions? Even worse, had Ginny Weasley been addicted to Pain Relief Potions? It would explain some of the altered and erratic behaviour that her father had described, though not everything. There was, however, a faint possibility that she'd taken an overdose of potions, climbed out of her bed, pulled down the covers and toppled over the lamp in that process, and fell bodily against the wall, making it appear as though she had been blasted there. This hypothesis would explain the lack of residual magic in her bedroom. Her death could very well be due to an accidental overdose of these potions, and the smear of blood on the wall maybe caused by an injury not willingly inflicted by Daphne as she put the woman in the Body Bind Curse and dumped her on the floor.

He bagged one of the vials, added it to his pocket, and made a note in his notebook to check the results of the blood samples taken during the autopsy of the victim for signs of Pain Relief Potion. Stashing the notebook away, he turned and left the suite to explore the rest of the house, and soon made the assessment that Ginny Weasley had made use of less than a tenth of the available spaces within the extravagant house.

On his back way out he took a closer look at the dining room and the other rooms on the ground floor. Of course the remains of the dinner the victim had ordered had already been removed by the diligent elves. He sighed; it was probably too much to hope that Dawlish had investigated the dining room. After all, he'd not found the victim's appointment calendar, either. None of the other rooms showed any indication that Ginny Weasley had set a foot into them: they were all immaculate. He called for the head house elf once more.

'You told Director McLean Ms Weasley ordered a cold dinner. Can you tell me if the food you laid out in the dining room has been touched? Do you know if Ms Weasley dined with a guest on the night of her death?'

The elf nodded a couple of times. 'Missy Weasley had dinner. There bes two dirty plates after.'

The warm glow of vindication spread through Nicholas' body, and a slow smile crept over his face. At last, the first solid hint that Ginevra Weasley had had yet another visitor after her encounter with Daphne Potter. Though the testimony of an elf bound to the Potters probably wouldn't be counted as totally reliable in court - after all, the Potters could have ordered it to give a false testimony - it was something he could start from. He now couldn't wait to have a closer look at that appointment calendar.

Ten minutes later he sat at the desk of his study at home, latex gloves on and Ginevra Weasley's appointment calendar in front of him, a fresh notepad and biro to the right, and a steaming mug of tea his wife had insisted on preparing for him left of the notebook.

He flipped through the calendar. The victim had left the U.S.A. on April 30th via International Portkey and had taken residence at _The Dorchester,_ a Muggle hotel, and not a cheap one either.

It appeared that the next day she'd already made an appointment with a Goblin from Gringotts' real estate department. Even though she'd stayed at a Muggle hotel first, she'd definitely been looking for a permanent residence among magical houses. The following four days showed appointments for looking at houses, along with her agent. His finger traced over the May 5th, she'd signed the rental agreement for _Stinchcombe Hall_ in the morning and apparently moved in by the afternoon on the same day.

There were also quite a lot appointments with McLean and Patterson from Crystal Fairy Beauty Products, together with her agent. She'd signed the contract with the company on the 7th, one day before Veterans Ball, where she had been involved in the altercation with Daphne.

The ball seemed to have been of importance for her, for she'd circled the date numerous times with red ink.

The week after the ball had daily appointments with Patterson, marked as "preparation for presentation". May 16th had again been circled numerous times with red ink. "Presentation" was written across the page.

That had been the party at _The Rectory._

So far, there had been no private appointments, if you didn't count the daily meetings with her agent as private. They'd mostly been late in the evening, usually they seemed to have had dinner together. A rather unusual time to meet someone's agent. And were daily meetings necessary in the Quidditch business? He knew that they had previously been intimately involved so maybe they still were? Arthur Weasley had been convinced of that as he watched them together prior to the ball.

He flipped another page, the day after the presentation party there was a private dinner appointment. Strangely enough, there was no name noted. The line only held the cryptic note "dinner with weapon".

Weapon against what? Or worse, against whom?

Which led to the most important question: who was "weapon"?

For Monday morning there was a photo shoot for Crystal Fairy. In the afternoon, around tea time, there was another rendez-vous with "weapon".

Had that appointment taken place? Was "weapon" the murderer? Or was it just a freak, potion-induced accident?

He closed the calendar and rubbed his eyes with the balls of his hands. Tomorrow, he'd pay a couple of visits. He'd have to talk to the realtor, to McLean and Patterson, and, of course, to Mr Zabini. Maybe one of them would let something slip that gave him a clue to the identity of "weapon".

 _t.b.c._


	86. Chapter 83

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Another big thank you to my fantastic editor Shygui.

Chapter **81** to 83 **,** 3/4/2019

* * *

 **83**

 _ **The Rectory, May 20th 2008**_

The instant they appeared on the Apparition Point at _The Rectory,_ Daphne pulled herself away from Harry, bent over, her arms clenched in front of her stomach, and vomited right at his feet.

'Eww!' quipped Seamus, while Dean let out a small chuckle. 'Parvati hated Apparition when she was preggers with our first. I swear, she learned how to projectile-vomit at me every time I took her side-along.'

Harry didn't pay them much heed. He Vanished the small puddle of sick, put his arm around his wife, who had still clenched her arms around her body, and helped her towards the house.

Matty already awaited them at the open door. 'Matty bes taking Mistress Daffy to her room,' she said, took Daphne's arm and _plopped_ her away.

Harry blinked at the spot where his wife had just disappeared from before he collected himself and hurried up the stairs to the master bedroom. His heart pounded in his chest, and his jaw was set into a determined line. No matter what Daphne said this time, he was going to take her to a healer as soon as she had recovered from her bout of nausea.

The sound of retching, coming from the ensuite, greeted him as soon as he opened the door to their bedroom, and he rushed towards the bathroom.

Daphne knelt in front of the toilet bowl, her body contorted in dry heaves.

With two long strides he was beside her, put his arm around her and pushed a strand of damp hair out of her sweaty face with his free hand, the acidic tang of vomit assaulting his nose. 'Don't you think it's about time to see a healer?' he asked in a low voice.

Daphne nodded. 'As soon as this is over.' That was all she managed to get out, before a new wave of nausea overcame her.

Harry held her until the ugly business was over, then helped her to the bed for some rest. However, Daphne's time of respite didn't last long. Not even ten minutes later she was heaving again.

The pattern continued throughout the afternoon, and Harry's nerves became thinner every time she hurried to the bathroom. Around dinner time, Harry had enough. 'Darling, it doesn't look as if your nausea is going to stop any time soon. I'm going to take you to St Mungo's right now.'

This time, Daphne didn't protest and gave an exhausted nod.

Harry helped his wife to the Apparition Point in front of the house and told Dean and Seamus about his decision.

Dean looked at Daphne and nodded his agreement. 'You really ought to see a healer, Daphne, you look like shit, if I may say so.' He turned to Harry and added sarcastically, 'I'll be coming with you to make sure your wife doesn't try to escape.'

Harry snorted. 'In her current state she won't get very far.'

Of course, Daphne vomited again as soon as Harry and Dean appeared on the Apparition Point at St Mungo's, Daphne between them. At least this had the benefit that Daphne was ushered into an examination room immediately, and a healer turned up a few minutes later.

'Mrs and Mr Potter, how can I help you?' Healer Payne asked as soon as the greetings were over.

Payne hadn't changed much in the five years since Harry had last seen him, when he brought them the devastating news of the effect the antidote against Daphne's poisoning would likely have on her ability ever to conceive again: a little less hair, maybe, some further greying at the temples, and what looked like some middle age spread under his healer robes. He listened to Daphne telling him about her symptoms, and then helped her lay down on the examination couch and ran a couple of Diagnostic Charms across her body, as Harry waited with his arms crossed, back leaned against the wall opposite of the examination bed, the fingers of his right hand drumming a pattern on his left biceps as he tried to be patient.

Rows of runes appeared in the air above Daphne's body and shimmered out of sight again. Healer Payne studied them with a frown on his face. 'So far, everything appears to be fine, Mrs Potter.' He stroked his chin between two fingers, deep in thought.

At length, he cast Daphne a sharp look. 'When was your last period, Mrs Potter?'

'Uh …' She gaped at him; her forehead creased as she mentally counted the weeks. 'I'm not sure, around the middle of April, I think.'

Healer Payne's eyebrows went up at that. 'You're not sure?' he asked with a small smile.

A faint blush crept into Daphne's cheeks. 'My period had become irregular after the… incident. The potions Mrs Granger-Weasley developed to counteract that effect helped somewhat, but I stopped taking them about a year ago.'

'Why's that?'

The blush on Daphne's cheeks intensified. 'The strain became too much for me. I was becoming obsessed with the idea of getting pregnant, and when Harry complained he felt as if he'd been reduced to the role of a stud, I knew it was time to let go, or our marriage wouldn't survive.' Her eyes darkened with unshed tears. 'I guess I have resigned to never becoming a mother.'

Healer Payne patted her shoulder. 'I see. Well, that problem is very common among couples who in vain try for a baby for such a long time. I'm glad you found the strength in yourself to let go of your obsessive behaviour. Nevertheless, let me try something.'

Once again he waved his wand across Daphne's body in a complicated pattern.

A single, bright pink rune appeared and hovered in the air over Daphne's abdomen.

Healer Payne's face morphed into a broad smile. 'Congratulations, Mrs Potter, you are pregnant. About six weeks along, I'd say, and the foetus is healthy and strong, according to the brightness of the rune.'

Daphne gasped; her hand flew to her mouth, and she stared up at Healer Payne with shining eyes.

Harry's breath caught, his heart missed a beat, then pounded against his ribcage like a steelhammer clanging against an anvil. Was it really true? Was their greatest wish going to be fulfilled? He pushed himself from the wall, rushed to Daphne's side, got to his knees and flung his arm around her.

She still stared at Healer Payne. 'I'm… I'm… pre-ga-ga...?' A gurgling sound escaped her lips. Was it laughter or a sob? Her eyes spilled over, and she buried her head at Harry's chest.

He tightened his embrace, his head spinning, and a broad smile tattooed on his lips. They were going to have a baby! Daphne clung to him, laughing and crying, and he caressed her back and pressed kisses into her hair while she stammered unintelligible words into his chest.

At length, she looked up at him. Her hair framed both sides of her face in dull strands, due to the night in the prison cell and the afternoon she'd spent in front of a toilet bowl, her eyes were red, and her nose run. Yet, there was a light in her eyes that made his throat constrict. Never before in her life she'd looked that beautiful to him.

'I'm pregnant!'

He bent down and kissed her. 'That you are, darling. Though, after what I've seen during Fleur's, Lisa's and Hermione's pregnancies, I don't doubt that you'll soon be pregaga, also.'

That earned him a swat on the arm and a delighted giggle from his wife. 'Prat!'

'Yeah, but we've already established the fact that I'm your prat, so deal with it.' He moved to kiss her again.

She held him at arm's length. 'Don't, honey, I must have dragon's breath.'

He chuckled. 'Why, yes, you do, darling, but I love you nevertheless.'

 _t.b.c._


	87. Chapter 84

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Autor's notes:** Many thanks to my wonderful editor Shygui. Enjoy your break, my friend!

Chapter **84** only, but 7k+ words. 10/04/18

* * *

 **84**

 _ **The Rectory, May 21st 2008**_

For the first time he could remember since he had been married, Harry woke up alone in the bed in the master bedroom of _The Rectory._ He stretched and made a face; everything somehow seemed cold and empty without Daphne.

Healer Payne had insisted on keeping Daphne in the hospital overnight. She'd neglected herself so much that she'd needed fluids and nutrients spelled into her system, and most importantly she'd needed rest. As Healer Payne had told him in rather blunt words: overly concerned husbands who were also overexcited fathers-to-be didn't agree with that basic requirement.

Cyrus had taught him when it was better to make a strategic retreat, so as soon as Daphne had been admitted to the maternity ward, he'd given her a lingering kiss, told her that he was proud and loved her, and bade goodnight. He'd floated out of the hospital room, his head still in the clouds because of the wonderful news.

Dean's presence next to the door had been like a bucket of cold water over his head. Would his small family been torn apart even before the baby was born? No, justice had to prevail in the end. Daphne wouldn't become another Stan Shunpike, if he could help it.

He'd Apparated back to _The Rectory,_ the strain of the last thirty-six hours with a sleepless night in between had taken its toll. He'd fallen onto his bed and was asleep almost immediately.

He started to mentally prepare himself, today would be another hard day. Daphne would be released from St Mungo's this morning. He would ensure that he was there to take her home; it was likely by now that the press would have got wind of the fact that she'd been admitted to the hospital and they'd lay siege to the entrance hall of St Mungo's. Once she was home and settled, then they'd meet with Anthony and Nicholas Greco to prepare Daphne's defence, a meeting that was likely to take up a lot of the afternoon. At this moment in time everything depended on Greco's skills to find a lead that pointed to another suspect.

He sighed as he swung his legs over the edge of his bed. If only there was a way to spare Daphne all that; she'd been through enough already, especially in her condition she shouldn't worry all the time.

A broad smile on his face, he stepped under the shower. They were going to be parents! This was such a precious gift that everything else going on in their lives paled into insignificance compared to that. Would it be a boy or a girl? If he was honest with himself he didn't care as long as mother and baby were healthy. Though, if the colour of the rune above Daphne's stomach was any indication, they were going to have a baby-girl.

A girl with Daphne's looks and his eyes, maybe? He let out a small chuckle as he towelled himself dry. He'd have to start planning to raise the wall around _The Rectory_ to five yards and hire a pair of extra mean troll-bodyguards to follow each of her steps as soon as she'd reached puberty.

Still a broad smile on his face as he imagined his teenaged daughter, he walked down to the breakfast room. A wonderful fragrance of fresh coffee and fried eggs with bacon and sausages greeted him, and his stomach made an appreciative gurgle in anticipation. When was the last time he'd eaten a decent meal? He frowned, thinking hard, breakfast on Monday morning was the last time he could really remember eating anything substantial. His lunch had been thoroughly spoiled by Ginny, and he and Daphne had skipped dinner in lieu of more interesting activities. Tuesday and yesterday, however -.

The smile vanished from his face and he pressed his lips together. It was better to forget these two days as soon as possible.

He sat down on his usual place. Matty had put _The Daily Prophet_ next to his placemat _,_ and also two letters that must have arrived while he was still under the shower.

Harry picked up the first letter and opened it. It was from Anthony, who confirmed their meeting at _The Rectory_ for this afternoon. They'd agreed it would be better to meet at the house rather than at Anthony's office in Diagon Alley, where Daphne would have to cope with a potentially hostile wizarding public on the way from the Apparition Point to the office.

He put the letter aside with a small breath. The sooner they started with Daphne's defence, the better. Was there anything from Nicholas Greco yet? He looked at the remaining letter. No such luck; it was from the Wizengamot.

Matty put a plate with eggs and sausages in front of him and poured him a cup of coffee. How the small creature knew he needed a strong coffee this morning instead of the tea Daphne preferred was beyond him, but he thanked Matty with a small smile and took an appreciative sip.

The cup still in his hand, he eyed the letter from the Wizengamot, and his stomach twisted into a tight knot. There was usually only one reason for a summons outside of the regular sessions: to elect a panel of judges for an impending criminal trial.

Daphne's trial.

He put down his cup and opened the letter. Yes, as he had expected, it was a summons to the election of the panel of judges, together with a reminder from the Chief Warlock that he'd better appoint a proxy for this meeting for reasons of conflict of interest.

None of this would be happening if Roper wasn't dead set on using Daphne for her own ends. 'Merlin damn that woman!' Oh, how he'd love to wring Roper's bony neck right now!

He let out a pent up breath. Getting angry would get him nowhere right now, and even more importantly, it wouldn't help Daphne. Roper was going to pay for this stunt one day, but right now he had other things he needed to do. He pushed his plate aside, Summoned some parchment, a quill and ink from the study, and scribbled a short note to Neville that authorised him to act as his proxy in the upcoming election.

'Mipsy,' he called and closed the letter.

With a quiet _plop!_ the elf appeared by his side, and he handed the letter to the small creature.

'Please, take this to Mr Neville Longbottom. After that, pack Mistress Daphne's toiletries and a change of clothes and take them to her room at St Mungo's.'

Mipsy gave a vigorous nod and _plopped_ away.

A quick look at his wristwatch told him he still had enough time for his breakfast before he had to pick up Daphne at the hospital. However, his appetite was once more gone, and he reached for _The Daily Prophet._

'Master Harry need eat breakfast. Empty tummy make clumsy hands and fuzzy brain,' Matty said beside him.

He turned his head to look at the small creature, the words "I'm fine!" at the tip of his tongue. They never left his mouth.

Matty stood in front of him, her little fists stemmed into her hips, and glared at him. 'Master Harry need bes as good as he can fight for Mistress Daffy and little baby master or mistress. Matty tell Master Harry eat breakfast!'

Harry's stomach gave an uncomfortable leap, and he gaped at the elf. What by Merlin's saggy underpants -?

'Eat!' Matty said, her face like a thundercloud, and pointed at his plate with a finger.

Harry gulped and pulled the plate towards him. He'd seen what a house elf's wrath could do when Dobby blasted away Lucius Malfoy after the incident in the Chamber of Secrets. He surely had no desire to find out what Matty would do to him if he didn't obey. He picked up his fork and put some scrambled eggs in his mouth.

A broad smile appeared on Matty's face. 'That bes better.'

He returned the smile with a shake of his head. 'How do you know about the baby, Matty? We just found out yesterday night.'

Matty gave him a look as if he was an especially dense student. 'House elves always know.' She turned around and scampered back into her kitchen.

He shook his head, took another bite, and perused the front page of _The Daily Prophet._

As it was to be expected, the news about Daphne's arrest for Ginny's murder had made the front page headline. It came with a big picture of Daphne and him, as they had hugged in the courtroom, but also with a less than flattering picture of him as he shoved Rita Skeeter into the wall of reporters that had waited for him in front of the courtroom.

The article below that was as horrible as he had expected. Skeeter apparently hadn't taken kindly to have been flung through the room by him. Though his outburst in front of the press was quoted right, she stated he had been under the lingering influence of Love Potions Daphne fed to him regularly.

He rolled his eyes and drained his cup of coffee. Couldn't Skeeter come up with something more original? If his memory didn't deceive him, she'd already used the Love Potion angle when she reported the news about their wedding, ten years ago.

When would _The Daily Prophet_ finally report the truth?

He scrunched his mouth into a wry grin and pushed his chair back. Maybe when pigs could fly and Eugenia Roper turned into the good fairy godmother.

* * *

 _ **St Mungo's, May 21st 2008**_

As he had expected the reception area of St Mungo's was jam-packed with reporters when Harry appeared on the Apparition Point. The security wizards of the hospital - a result of the last war - had a hard time trying to contain the press contingent to their assigned corner of the entrance hall, so that they wouldn't disturb the daily functions of the hospital.

Nevertheless, the moment they recognised Harry, the mass of reporters moved as one, like a rising tide in his direction, swamping the helpless security wizards in the process.

Harry let his wand slip out of its holster and cast a silent Shield Charm around himself.

As expected, the first reporters bumped into the invisible shield and were instantly pressed up against it by the hordes behind them. Screams of pain and anger rented the air, mixed in with snippets of questions hurled at him by those who had not yet realised what was going on.

Holding the shield wandlessly, he cast another silent spell that silenced the crowd. He pointed the tip of his wand against his throat to amplify his voice. Every eye in the hall was directed at him; even the patients waiting for treatment and the reception witch were listening to what he had to say.

'Good morning. Following the advice of Daphne's barrister I am not going to comment on the ongoing investigations, except to say that as you can imagine, my wife is deeply troubled by the wrongful accusations that led to her arrest. She had a minor break-down because of that last evening. I brought her to St Mungo's to seek medical attention, and the healer who examined her decided to monitor her overnight just to be safe. I have come this morning to bring her home. Once Daphne is discharged we'll be returning to _The Rectory_ to work on Daphne's defence, because make no mistake about this: my wife is innocent. That's all. Thank you for your attention.'

He cancelled the Voice Amplifying Charm, though he kept the Silencing Charm and the Shield Charm. The crowd of reporters moved with him as he walked towards the elevators, shouting silent questions at him. He suppressed a smirk. Would they ever learn? At least the security wizards finally got a grip on themselves and began to push the reporters back so that he could enter the elevator.

Compared to the entrance hall, St Mungo's maternity ward was a haven of peace when he stepped out of the elevator, though every passing nurse, healer and visitor cast him a curious glance.

Daphne was already out of bed, showered and dressed in the casual robes Mipsy had brought her that morning. She sat in an armchair near the window and was leafing through a fashion magazine as she waited.

At the sound of the opening door she looked up. A blinding smile appeared on her beautiful face.

'Harry!' She flung the magazine onto a low table next to her chair and leapt into his arms.

A wonderful warmth permeated him as he pulled her close and kissed her, and he could have sworn they were surrounded by a soft glow.

He held his wife at arm's length and scrutinised her face. She was still pale under her light makeup, but the dark bags under her eyes weren't that prominent anymore. Though a few faint lines around her eyes gave testimony of the stress she'd been through ever since they'd got the news of Ginny's death, her eyes beamed at him with a happiness they hadn't shown for a very long time - not since that horrible day he had to tell her she'd lost their unborn baby.

'You look much better.'

'I am feeling better. No sign of nausea so far today, and I had a decent sleep last night. Healer Payne also gave me a lot advice on how to deal with the nausea.' She snuggled into his side and laughed. 'At least we know now that my being unwell had perfectly natural reasons that will be gone in a couple of months, so you can stop fussing, honey.'

He joined her laughter. 'That's going to be impossible, darling. You know me, I won't be able to stop fussing about both of you until the little one has arrived safe and sound, and I'm sure you're alright as well.'

He put his hand on her abdomen. At a first glance, it seemed to be as flat as always under the loose robes, but the small changes were apparent when his hand touched the slight bulge of her belly. A soft tingle went through his hand, and he gasped.

Daphne gave him a questioning look from under raised eyebrows.

'Our baby… There was a tingle in my hand when I touched you. I think our baby wanted to say hello.'

She let out a delighted chuckle. 'She does it all the time since yesterday whenever I put my hand on my tummy. I thought it's a mother-baby thing, I had no idea you can feel it, too.'

Harry grinned at her. 'She?'

'She,' Daphne said with a determined nod. 'Do you mind it's not a boy?'

'Not if she's as intelligent and beautiful as her mummy,' he replied and kissed her. 'Which I'm sure she will be.'

Daphne leaned against him with a content sigh. 'Can we go home? Healer Payne already stopped by this morning and said I was free to leave. After everything that has happened since Tuesday I just want to curl up on the sofa for the rest of the day and relax.'

'Your wish is my command, my lady,' Harry said and dropped a kiss on her head. Arm in arm they left the hospital room, exiting via the outgoing private floo connection on the ward.

* * *

 _ **The Rectory, May 21st 2008**_

Daphne made good of her promise and curled up with a blanket and a thick novel on a sofa in the conservatory. When Harry looked after her a couple of minutes later to tell her goodbye before he left for a short meeting with Raymond at headquarters, she was already sound asleep.

She was still on the sofa when he returned a few hours later, albeit now awake. The opened novel in her lap, she looked out into the blossoming gardens, a wistful smile on her face.

'A Knut for your thoughts,' he said as he sat down next to her on the edge of the sofa.

She turned her head; a small tear escaped the corner of her eyes and run down her cheek.

He cupped her cheek in his hands and brushed away the tear with the pad of his thumb, his heart heavy in his chest. There was no explanation needed, she had to be as terrified as he was at the thought there might be the smallest possibility that Roper would get her charges to stick and Daphne would be sent to Azkaban for Ginny's murder. It was unbearable to think of that, everything in him constricted at the thought of the love of his life behind prison bars; as unbearable was the thought of his child being born at Azkaban. Even with the Dementors banished from Azkaban, it was still a horrible place.

He pressed his lips into a thin line. This wasn't going to happen; he'd never stand by, twiddling his thumbs, and watch his wife and unborn child being carried off to Azkaban, two more innocent victims of the corruption still inside of the Ministry of Magic.

'I won't let it happen' he said in a low voice. 'What good is it being the richest wizard in England, and one of the wealthiest men in Europe if I don't use the money we have to keep you and our baby out of Azkaban? You know that we don't have to live in England for you and me to lead Crystal Fairy. We can buy a nice place wherever we like and work from there, and the Ministry would never be able to get at us. The democratic magical governments all over the world are still distrustful of magical England, with good reason, and would never extradite us. Or we could just disappear in the Muggle world. What about Hawaii? I've been told it's beautiful there, and warm all year round.'

She let out a watery laugh, turned her head and nuzzled her face into the palm of his hand. 'How are you going to do that, honey?'

He put both arms around her and pulled her close. 'Don't worry about that, darling. I have an idea I'm sure will work, though I won't tell you. What you don't know, a Legilimens can't pull out of your head. You never know if Roper has one working for her.'

Daphne let out a deep sigh. 'Good. I knew you'd find a way.'

His heart constricted in his chest, and he balled his fists. Merlin knew he'd do anything to prove he deserved the unconditional trust she put into him.

The axe over their heads wasn't mentioned anymore. Instead, they bantered about baby names over the light lunch Matty had prepared for them.

Harry dug deep into the admittedly abundant repertoire of strange names the Potters and the Blacks had established between their two families over the centuries. 'What about Euphemia?'

His wife snorted and threw a roll at him. 'No way, ever. I'm not going to burden our innocent daughter with the name of someone out of our families, or, heaven forbid, someone who played a big role in our lives. Next thing you're going to tell me is that you want to name the poor baby Albinia Severa.'

He almost choked on his sandwich, coughed, and took a sip of pumpkin juice to clear his throat. 'Merlin, no! What kind of dad do you think I will be?'

'The worst kind imaginable,' Daphne said and gave him a saucy grin across the table. 'You're probably going to spoil her rotten.'

He didn't deign that an answer, except for a mock-hurt look that made her laugh out loud.

Their good mood vanished, however, when it was time to get ready for their appointment with Anthony and Greco after lunch.

Anthony arrived first, with Greco not even a minute behind him.

Anthony's eyes lit up as he shook Greco's hand, and he gave Harry an approving nod. 'Good thinking, Harry. I was going to suggest we engage a private investigator to conduct our own investigation, since the DMLE seems determined to make a monumental farce out of this case, judging by what I've found out so far.'

Greco's face became grim at these words. 'I agree. Everything I found out yesterday indicates that neither Roper nor Dawlish make any efforts to conduct a thorough investigation. They're all set to pick the leads that are in favour of the charge against Mrs Potter and ignore the rest.'

Daphne's eyes became dark at that, and a shudder ran through her body. Harry put a calming hand on the small of her back and invited their visitors to sit down in the dining room, while he and Daphne sat down at the opposite side of the table.

'Alright, what do you have for us?' he asked, and looked from Anthony to Greco.

Anthony waved his wand over a thin folder in front of him and handed the duplicates to Harry, Daphne and Greco. 'I was finally allowed to examine Daphne's file this morning and make a copy of it.' He indicated at the folder in front of him and opened it with a shake of his head. 'As far as I am concerned, there isn't nearly enough in here for a solid case for prosecution, not that it seems to be hindering Roper, unfortunately, there's also almost zero evidence that we can use from the DMLE investigation to exonerate Daphne; I think you'll have your work cut out over the next few days identifying and obtaining the missing evidence, Mr Greco.'

Greco didn't seem to be surprised about that. 'I think I know what you're alluding to, Mr Goldstein. I'd suggest you present your research first, and I'll add my findings to that. I think that I'll probably be able to close some of the gaps.'

Anthony's brows went up at that, but he agreed to Greco's suggestion with a small nod. 'Well, the Aurors were informed by Harry around nine-thirty on the morning of the nineteenth that Ginny had been found dead in her bedroom. The Aurors arrived at _Stinchcombe Hall,_ Ginny's last place of residence, about a quarter to ten. As mandatory in supposed homicide cases, they had an Unspeakable with them who did the external examination of the corpse.'

He paused, poured himself a glass of sparkling water, and took a sip. 'Ginny was found in her bedroom, crumpled against the wall next to her bed. The pulled down sheets and a lamp toppled over indicated that a fight might have taken place. She was naked; there was a laceration at the back of her head, but only very little blood, so the Unspeakable concluded that this injury was inflicted at or around the time of her death. He also found marks at Ginny's throat that might have been caused by an attempted strangulation.'

Harry shuddered. Had Ginny been blasted against the wall and her murderer had left her to die? Or had she been strangled to death?

'As it is mandatory procedure, the Unspeakable examined the corpse and estimated the time of Ginny's death around eight in the morning.'

'Well, that excludes Daphne. She was next to me in our bed at that time,' Harry said.

Anthony pursed his lips. 'How would you know when you were asleep?'

Harry's cheeks became warm. 'Actually, Daphne and I overslept that morning. I woke up around eight, I think. Daphne was by my side and still sound asleep. She didn't even wake up when my mobile phone buzzed a few minutes later. Lisa Finch-Fletchley, our personal assistant, called me to ask where I am. I should have been at a meeting that day ten minutes ago. The beginning of the meeting was scheduled at eight o'clock. You can ask Lisa and make a copy from my appointment calendar.'

'I will.' Anthony pulled a sheet of parchment towards him and made a note. 'What is a moby - how did you call that thing?'

'A mobile phone. It's a Muggle device, like a telephone, only without a cord. Muggles use it to communicate by voice over long distances. Daphne, I and our magical employees who also work at the Muggle part of the company have mobiles that have special protections to run in a magical environment. Devices like that are very common outside of magical Britain.'

'Fascinating,' Anthony said and added a few notes. 'What happened next?'

'Daphne hadn't been feeling well for some time, and I was worried about her, especially since she put off seeing a healer again and again. So I told Lisa to cancel all of our appointments for the rest of the day, because I was going to take Daphne to a healer and make sure she got the break she obviously needed. I ended the call and decided to let Daphne sleep some more. I must have drifted off to sleep again, for the next thing I remember is Matty waking me up and telling me that Director McLean wanted to see Daphne and me.'

Anthony put the quill down and sighed. 'That should be enough for any other panel of judges. However, if Geoffrey Roper manages to pull enough strings and somehow cobbles together a panel of judges that can be coerced into his way of thinking, it's unlikely that they will they listen to the explanations of the Unspeakable whose method of investigation is based on Muggle science.'

A deep frown appeared on Greco's face. 'That means we need to present the panel of judges with the real perpetrator, or Mrs Potter will end up in Azkaban.'

Anthony nodded. 'Unfortunately, yes. Though, we can have Daphne give her statement under Veritaserum. The judges can't brush that aside.'

Harry startled. Was it possible for Daphne to take such a strong potion this early in her pregnancy without endangering their child?

Daphne already shook her head. 'That's not possible, Anthony.' A pretty blush crept in her cheeks. 'Yesterday Harry and I got the wonderful news that I'm pregnant. You have no idea how long we've waited for that moment. There's no way I'm endangering my baby; I'd rather go to Azkaban.'

An icy hand clasped around Harry's heart, and his breath hitched. Of course she'd decide that way, she wouldn't be his Daphne otherwise.

Anthony sighed. 'I suppose congratulations are in order, although, if I'm allowed to say so, your timing is a trifle unfortunate. At least you can offer the panel of judges an oath on your magic instead, although that doesn't have quite the impact as a testimony under Veritaserum: a magical oath can be circumvented, Veritaserum cannot. '

Silence descended on the room. Daphne linked her fingers with Harry's. Her hand was cold and trembled in his.

Greco was the first to break the silence. 'You'd better fill us in about the case the DMLE has built against Mrs Potter, Mr Goldstein. I think I have a lead or two we ought to explore.'

'Well, Dawlish didn't like at all the examinations the Unspeakable conducted and called him off the case before he could finish. He claimed that observance of the _Old Faith_ forbade any disturbances of Ginny's lingering soul and forbade that Ginny's body was brought into the morgue at the Ministry of Magic for an autopsy. He claimed the Weasleys might want to perform a ritual for the transition of her soul, as it is custom in some Pureblood families.'

Harry snorted at that. 'He knows the Weasleys were called Bloodtraitors for a reason during the war, does he? They don't adhere to the _Old Faith_ anymore.'

Anthony gave him a grim smile. 'You bet he does. He just didn't want to uncover evidence that might weaken the case against Daphne. As a result the cause of Ginny's death is yet undecided. She might have died because of the injury she suffered when she was blasted into the wall, but she might as well have been strangled first and her body been blasted into the wall in a fit of prosecution is claiming the latter. I suppose we'll never know. The body was left where it was, and the crime scene was released to Ginny's parents yesterday.'

Nicholas Greco cleared his throat and looked at Harry. 'Head Auror Weasley informed me yesterday that he took charge of his sister's body and arranged for an autopsy being performed on her corpse by the Unspeakables. He promised to send you a copy of the report as soon as he gets it.'

A smile crept over Harry's face. 'Ron always had a good head on his shoulder in a crisis.'

Greco returned his smile. 'He said the same about you, Mr Potter.'

Anthony let out a deep breath. 'That should make things easier for us, especially when the D.M.L.E. is wrong about the cause of death. The file shows that Daphne's wand has been confiscated when she was arrested and is currently kept at the evidence room of the DMLE. As of yet, nobody performed _Priori Incantatem_ on it.'

Harry shook his head. 'What a bunch of morons.'

'I agree,' Anthony said. He turned to Daphne. 'I'm planning on asking of having _Priori Incantatem_ performed on your wand in front of the panel of judges, so you'd better tell me now if you and Harry had had a spat lately where you used the Blasting Hex on your husband.'

Daphne became rigid in her seat, and her beautiful eyes glared at Anthony. 'Of course not. The test will show the Levitation Charm, the Disarming Charm and the Full Body Bind Curse I have already admitted to having used on Ginny, but nothing else, except a few Glamour Charms.'

Anthony grinned at her. 'I expected that much, as loved up as you and Harry always are.'

That got him a huff from Daphne.

Not intimidated at all by Daphne's now glowering face, he returned to the file. 'Except for Ginny's bedroom, no other room at _Stinchcombe Hall_ was examined. Another glaring mistake, if you ask me.'

Once again, Nicholas Greco cleared his throat. 'Mr Weasley gave me permission to examine the crime scene, and I had a look at the rooms of _Stinchcombe Hall_ Ms Weasley had used in the days prior to her death. I found Ms Weasley's appointment calendar in the private living room next to her bedroom and took it with me. In her bathroom I found a high number of vials with custom made Pain Relief Potions. I sent one of the vials to Head Auror Weasley to be examined together with the body. Maybe Ms Weasley was under the influence of potions when she died, and her death can be blamed on an accident. Even more important, I also inspected the safe in her dressing room. The head house elf informed me that a big brown envelope with a noticeable red stamp on it is missing from the safe. Maybe the content of that envelope was the reason Ms Weasley had to die. The house elf also confirmed Ms Weasley had a guest after Mrs Potter left.'

Anthony shot Harry a broad grin. 'I don't know what you pay him, Harry, but he's worth every Knut.'

'I know, if he continues like this there may be a big fat bonus coming his way too!' Harry replied, and had to suppress a chuckle at the pleased expression on Greco's face he tried in vain to hide. He motioned Anthony with his hand to continue.

'Well, after he had left _Stinchcombe Hall,_ Dawlish went to _The Burrow_ to interview Ginny's family. He interviewed Mr Weasley first, but the poor man still seemed to have been in shock, for Dawlish couldn't get out of him anything beside "I don't know."' He turned a page in his folder. 'Mrs Weasley, however, was just the opposite.'

He raised his head and looked at Daphne. 'I'm sorry to be the one to tell you that she accused you of the murder of her daughter. She claims Harry was blackmailed into marrying you by your father. According to Molly Weasley he never stopped loving Ginny and planned on divorcing you. You knew about his plans, were jealous of Ginny, and at Veterans Ball you assaulted Ginny without any provocation on her part and threatened her and I quote "she was to leave Harry alone or you would kill her" or words to that effect.'

He paused and looked from Daphne to Harry. 'You'd better tell me how much of her accusations are true. The public will be ready to tear Daphne apart as soon as Roper reveals the blackmail part.'

Harry and Daphne exchanged a long look at Anthony's last words. Daphne shook her head as if in denial, while she fingered her necklace with one hand. 'Will she?'

'You bet,' Harry said, a grim smile around his lips. He pressed her hand that was still in his. 'She'd milk everything she can get her hands on to paint us in the worst light possible. You would seem as a heartless bitch, very likely capable of murder if it suited your ends, and I would seem like a pussy-whipped wimp anyone would think twice to put their trust upon to lead magical Britain.'

He turned his head towards Anthony. 'Unfortunately, it is true. However, I'll be forever thankful to Cyrus for that.' He bent towards Daphne and gave her a kiss on the cheek. 'If this point is being brought up - and it will - call me into the witness box. I have a few things that I can tell the panel of judges that will blow Roper's story apart.'

Although that wouldn't be enough, Roper most likely would leak that juicy bit of information to the press, too, in an attempt to condemn Daphne even more in the public eye. He'd have to counteract that, though discreetly. McLean was just the right man for that.

Anthony gave him a long look. 'Well, you're probably in the best position to know what happened between you and Daphne. A passionate statement from you will go a long way in Daphne's defence.'

Greco cleared his throat. 'A few weeks after the end of the war Mr Greengrass asked me to investigate Ms Weasley. I found out she was seeing Mr Zabini, who later became her agent, while she was supposed to be Mr Potter's steady girlfriend. The relationship continued even through at least three of her four marriages, and Ms Weasley's father told me yesterday that he is sure she still was in a relationship with him when she returned to England. Her calendar confirmed that suspicion: she and Zabini used to meet at rather unusual times.'

'Isn't it risky trying to malign the reputation of the victim as part of the defence?' Harry asked.

'That depends,' Anthony said. 'If this angle brings up another suspect, I'm all for it.' He gave Harry a fleeting side glance. 'Their relationship during the war was Hogwarts best kept open secret, I think. I had no idea you knew.'

Harry let out a short laugh. 'I knew right from the beginning. That knowledge helped a lot to get over Ginny and make me see the light.' He pressed Daphne's hand, and she gave him a small smile in return.

Greco pulled a notepad out from his pocket and flipped it open. 'I had a long discussion with Arthur Weasley yesterday. He is convinced that their relationship still continued until the day Ms Weasley died. He's suspicious of Mr Zabini's alleged relationship with the mob and thinks Ms Weasley might have been killed because of her involvement in some of his shadier businesses. That's a lead I'm going to investigate deeper, though it will take time to follow the flow of the money.'

He flipped to the next page of his notes. 'When I read Ms Weasley's appointment calendar, I came across an entry that suggests she'd begun seeing someone beside Mr Zabini. Unfortunately, she mentioned no name, she called that person "weapon". This morning I talked to the Goblin realtor Ms Weasley contacted right after her return to England, as well as to Director McLean and Mr Patterson from Crystal Fairy. They all had the impression that Ms Weasley was very keen on her privacy. A new lover in her life might be the reason for that need for privacy, which sheds another light on the case. He might have found out about her relationship with Zabini and killed her in a bout of jealousy. Unfortunately, I've not yet made any progress to discover the identity of "weapon". Zabini has not yet answered to my letter in which I asked him for a meeting.'

Daphne had become very still at Greco's last words, and stared ahead, her lip between her teeth and a frown on her face. She pushed a strand of hair out of her face, took a deep breath, and turned to Harry. 'Is it possible that "weapon" is Williams?'

'Well, I'd call Williams many things, but "weapon" is the last thing that comes to my mind if I think of him,' Harry said with a small laugh.

'You're looking at it all wrong, honey,' Daphne said with a shake of her head. 'From the way she acted around you each time you met it's safe to say she wanted to get you back into her clutches. That didn't play out like she had planned, which must've become blindingly obvious to her after the incident at the promotion party. However, Williams, that hunk of a man, took care of her when you ignored her. What if she thought in her deluded state of using Williams as a means to make you jealous? That would explain "weapon", I think.'

Greco's eyes had never left Daphne's face as she talked. 'Williams, you said?' he asked, and leafed through his notebook. 'Remember the other investigation you asked me to do after the party, Mr Potter? My contact in the U.S.A. got back to me yesterday late at night. He found out that Morten Williams was a roommate of Elias Frudge, Clay Cheevers and Alexander Carrington at Salem. Elias Frudge was Ms Weasley's first husband who is, according to my contact, still pissed about the compensation he had to pay her when they were divorced. Clay Cheevers was Ms Weasley's teammate at the Taos Tornados.'

He took a deep breath. 'I know you've never examined your father's file cabinet, Mrs Potter, or you would've found the file about the investigation Mr Greengrass asked me to do into his brother Dorian right after the Battle of Hogwarts. I found out Mr Dorian Greengrass went to the U.S.A. after he had been cast out by his father. There he got involved with a witch from Salem named Nancy Carrington. Alexander Carrington is their only child.'

Harry's stomach lurched, and he gasped. That couldn't be! Beside him, Daphne had become even paler.

Anthony, however, let out a low whistle. He raised his head and looked at Harry and Daphne, a slow grin spreading over his face. 'He _is_ worth every Knut you pay him. He just provided us with at least half a dozen possibilities for Ginny's murderer that will blow a huge hole into Roper's charges.'

'Yeah, but will that be enough as long as we're not able to prove that Ginny had a visitor that night and don't know his identity?' Harry said.

'What about the elves?' Daphne asked.

Anthony shook his head. 'They are not qualified as a means of evidence, Daphne, since they belong to your husband. He could simply order them to lie for you.'

'I don't mean you to question them at court. We could question them now about who entered _Stinchcombe Hall_ after I left, and Mr Greco can work from there to obtain additional evidence against that person.'

The young barrister gaped at her. 'Why didn't I think of that? It's so obvious, isn't it? If Harry ever fires you from Crystal Fairy, I could use you in my team at the firm.'

'No way, not happening, Goldstein, keep your grubby mits of my wife's career,' Harry said, which caused a round of low chuckles. He leaned back in his chair and called, 'Annie!'

The next moment an elf appeared beside his chair with a soft _pop,_ clad in a pristine white tea towel with red piping. 'How can Annie serve master?'

'Annie, you already told the Aurors that Mistress Daphne brought Miss Ginny into the hall of _Stinchcombe Hall_ and ordered you to free her from the spells she'd put on her some time after Mistress Daphne had left the house. We also know Miss Ginny had another visitor after that. Well, elves always know if someone passes the wards, so can you tell me who Miss Ginny's visitor was?'

Annie's ears drooped and she shook her head. 'Annie bes sorry, master. Annie sensed a visitor passing the wards, but Annie not know his name. Miss Ginny opened the door. Annie never saw the visitor.'

A fist seemed to punch him into the gut, and Harry exhaled. Bugger! He'd been so sure the questioning of the elf would be a major break through.

Daphne gave him a small smile and put her hand on his balled fist. 'Annie, why don't you tell us everything you know from the moment I left the house until Director McLean went up into Miss Ginny's bedroom?'

The small creature gave an eager nod. 'Annie can do that. Annie is a good elf and waited fifteen minutes after Mistress Daphne had left the house before Annie unbind Miss Ginny. Miss Ginny was not happy with Annie.' The expressive ears drooped again.

Harry furrowed his brows. 'I hope she didn't punish you.'

Annie shook her head. 'Miss Ginny yelled at Annie for a long time. Yells do not hurt. Miss Ginny ordered Annie to prepare a cold dinner for two, lay it out in the dining room with Stasis Charms, and leave Miss Ginny alone until she call for Annie again. Annie do what Miss Ginny say and go to her room after that.'

'What happened then?' Harry asked.

'Annie think it was about an hour later when a visitor passed the outer wards. The visitor was not keyed into the wards, and Annie do not know his name. Miss Ginny opened the door and let the visitor in. They go into the dining room. Two hours later they go up to Miss Ginny's bedroom.' The elf pinked at these words.

Daphne gave her an encouraging smile. 'That's alright, Annie. When did the visitor leave?'

The elf scrunched up it's long nose. 'That bes the next morning. Annie bes in the kitchen and preparing breakfast for Miss Ginny, and the wards told Annie the visitor left and another visitor came.'

'Another visitor?' Harry gasped, and the four humans around the table gaped at Annie.

Annie gave a vigorous nod that had her ears flapping. 'This visitor had access to the house. When Miss Ginny came to master's house, Miss Ginny got permission to key weekend guests into the wards. Miss Ginny do not need enter the name for that. Miss Ginny keyed that visitor to the wards. He visited Miss Ginny almost every day. Annie do not know his name, Miss Ginny never say name to Annie.' She stared onto the floor with drooped ears.

'That's alright, Annie, you have no idea how much you helped us. You are a very good house elf! You may go now.' Harry praised the small creature.

The drooped ears perked up, Annie raised her head and beamed at Harry. 'Annie bes happy to serve the great Master Harry Potter.' With that, she apparated away.

Anthony was the first to recover from the surprising revelations. 'Well, Greco, you have your work cut out. Find out the names of the visitors, and then find out which one killed Ginny Weasley.'

 _t.b.c._

* * *

Next update might be delayed. My beta needs a much deserved break.


	88. Chapter 85

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** A huge thank you to my wonderful editor Shygui. As always, he did a marvellous job. I hope you have a very relaxing holiday, my friend!

I meant to post this yesterday, but after the horrible news from Sri Lanka I didn't feel like that anymore.

Chapter **85** to **87** , 22/04/19

* * *

 **85**

 _ **London, May 22nd 2008**_

He whistled a soft tune as he sat down at the breakfast table. Life was just wonderful, everything was going in his favour for a change. The Weasley bitch was taken care of; she couldn't blab his secrets anymore. The Potter whore also was as good as out of the picture. The DMLE wouldn't have pressed charges against her that soon if they weren't pretty sure they could nail her for Weasley's death. As soon as she'd been carted off to Azkaban it would be a piece of cake to deal with a heartbroken Potter and then finally his father and mother could rest in peace.

The elves had placed _The Daily Prophet_ beside his plate. How anyone could call that rag a newspaper was beyond him, but the exaggerated and mostly false stories never ceased to amuse him.

What was today's fairy tale of the day? He picked up the paper and unfolded it.

Most space of the front page was taken up by a blurry, unprofessional looking photo of Potter and his whore leaving a ward at St Mungo's. They weren't aware that they were being photographed. As always, they had their arms around each other and were looking at each other with that goofy expression that never failed to set off his gag reflex. Vomit inducing the pair of them were, fawning over each other in public like that

His eyes wandered to the headline below the picture.

 _ **Accused in Weasley Murder Case Pregnant?**_

He jumped in his seat. What? That couldn't be, not after the poisoning of the whore five years ago; the potions she had had to take to counteract the poison would have impacted her fertility for years to come. The paper shook in his hands as he seethed inwardly. Weasley! That meddling bloody Mudblood, that explained what all those off the books experiments were that he couldn't get a read on. That interfering little wench had somehow cured the Potter whore, if everything went well he might have to find time before he abandoned England to thank her personally for her efforts.

Taking a steadying breath he focussed his attention back on the paper. The short article along with the accompanying photo and headline didn't help much to calm his nerves. As always, the star reporter of _The Daily Prophet,_ one Rita Skeeter, knew next to nothing and made the most out of it. Her speculations about the state of the Potter marriage and the supposed triangle with Weasley were ridiculous, especially the fake-sympathetic question if the baby was Potter's.

Of course it was, anyone who'd taken longer than a cursory glance at the Potters had to know how deep their feelings for each other were. Also, even though Weasley had thrown herself at him, Potter had made it very clear he wasn't interested and had showered his wife with pronounced and in his opinion lascivious attention after each incident. Lastly, there had never been even the slightest hint of the Potter whore and another man, everyone could see that she was sickeningly in love with Potter.

Gods damn it all, he couldn't allow the baby to be born, it would give Potter something to anchor his life to after his wife had wasted away because of the despair Azkaban still emanated. Not to mention that he wasn't about to let Daphne Potter leave an heir behind in this world. Was it possible to arrange a fatal accident for her as soon as she reached the island? Probably, prison guards were badly paid worldwide and never averse to a quick Knut on the side.

He glared at the fuzzy picture, given that it was likely the Prophet had at least managed to get the fact she was pregnant right, he'd better make sure that the whore would end up in Azkaban for good. Weasley had been a well of - admittedly outdated - information, but he'd hit a gold mine in the end: the fact that Potter had been blackmailed into marrying his wife and his frequent meetings with his ex whenever he visited the U.S.A. were just what he needed to add fuel to the suspicions already levelled against the whore, especially since the whore knew of every meeting because of the photos Weasley had sent her. It was doubtful the D.M.L.E. knew about that; neither Potter nor his wife would've been dumb enough to mention anything that would lend credence to the theory she had murdered Weasley out of jealousy.

He got up from the breakfast table, ignoring the now cooling food, walked into his study and sat down behind his ornate desk, picking up a quill and a sheet of parchment. The smile around his lips became deeper with each minute he wrote. The wizarding public would love to get more insights into the workings of the love triangle among Potter, his whore, and Weasley. How fortunate he'd managed to persuade the redhead to give him the copies of the photos she had of Potter and herself. They'd come in handy with the investigation of the D.M.L.E. He pulled a big, brown manila envelope with a noticeable red stamp out of the drawer of his desk and added it to the letter.

He didn't bother to sign the letter and called his personal elf. 'Seedy!'

'Master has called his worthless servant?'

He handed the letter and the envelope to the elf. 'Take this to the Ministry of Magic and leave it with Madam Roper. Make sure you're not seen.'

Seedy bowed and vanished with that annoying _plop_ of house elf Apparition.

The antique clock on the sideboard in the entrance hall chimed once. It was about time for him to leave for work. It was going to be a long and arduous one, no doubt the alleged pregnancy of the whore would be the only topic at Crystal Fairy today.

 _t.b.c._


	89. Chapter 86

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** A huge thank you to my wonderful editor Shygui. As always, he did a marvellous job. I hope you have a very relaxing holiday, my friend!

I meant to post this yesterday, but after the horrible news from Sri Lanka I didn't feel like that anymore.

Chapter **85** to **87** , 22/04/19

* * *

 **86**

 _ **Nicholas Greco's house, May 22nd 2008**_

Nicholas Greco was a busy man, so he paid the outrageous fees the Goblins at Gringotts charged for their Banishing Boxes with gritted teeth. There was no denying mail delivery - magical as well as Muggle - was much faster this way, which gave him an advantage over his competitors.

As always, the box was full to the brim when he opened it with a flick of his wand. He sat down at his desk with the thick bundle of letters, grabbed for the paper knife, and began the tedious business of sorting his daily mail. Most of the letters were from Muggle registries, answers to inquiries he'd made for a couple of financial background checks. However, there were also three letters pertaining to his latest and most complex case: the defence of one Daphne Potter.

He pushed his other mail aside and read these three letters first, this afterall was the most important case of his career and he'd be damned if he'd let that little girl whom he'd watch grow up go to jail. They were answers to letters he'd written yesterday evening, after the meeting with the Potters and Anthony Goldstein, Mrs Potter's defence barrister. They needed quick results, there was only little more than one week left until the trial would start.

The first letter was from Arthur Weasley, a reply to his request to have a closer look at Ms Weasley's estate. Arthur informed him that he'd already asked his oldest son Bill, a Curse Breaker with Gringotts, to have a look, in the hope to find something incriminating against Zabini, and that Nicholas' expertise was highly welcomed for an in-depth investigation.

A broad grin appeared on Greco's face, and he at once scribbled a short letter to Bill Weasley to arrange an appointment.

The grin vanished from his face when he read the next letter. Zabini informed him in rather curt words that he'd have no time for a talk in the foreseeable future. Well, in the light of Annie's revelation that wasn't surprising. They'd discussed the new leads at length and come to the conclusion that most likely Zabini was the visitor who'd arrived in the morning, while Williams probably was the visitor who had stayed for the night. Had Zabini smelled a rat? He was a Pureblood, there was a high probability he knew the elves had sensed his arrival and was now trying his best to cover his tracks, especially since he was either the murderer or had at least found Ginny Weasley's dead body and didn't report it. Merlin damn the slippery bastard, now he'd have to find out Zabini's haunts, hope he'd catch him and then, more impossibly, hope that Zabini actually would be willing to answer his questions - which was doubtful. The gods only knew where and when he'd find the time for that routine piece of work.

At least the last letter had somewhat good news: Williams agreed to meet him that afternoon at his flat in London. However, he'd have preferred to talk to Williams after he got the additional informations from his contact in the USA he'd asked for yesterday evening.

Oh well, you couldn't have everything. He grabbed for the stack of letters he'd cast to the side in favour of the letters on the Potter case. He'd better get his mail out of the way right now; the sooner he'd be able to search for the elusive Mr Zabini, the better.

* * *

Nicholas walked into the spacious entrance hall of the apartment house near Hyde Park. The concierges table was discreetly hidden in a niche of the room. Nicholas stepped to the table and announced himself.

'My name is Nicholas Greco. Mr Williams is expecting me.'

He took the time of the concierge announcing his arrival to have a closer look at his surroundings.

There was gleaming marble everywhere he looked, and in the middle of the hall a veritable fountain sent crystal clear jets of water into the air. Sunbeams falling into the high-ceilinged room through tall windows broke in the rays of water and painted an ever changing mural in all colours of the rainbow on the marble walls.

Nicholas let out a silent whistle. Housing in London didn't come cheap, and this apartment building was at the top of the scale. That impression was strengthened when he rode up in the gilded, thick-carpeted elevator to the eighth floor and found himself in another entrance hall, slightly smaller than its counterpart on the ground floor, with the same gleaming marble covering the floors and the walls, and a colourful oriental carpet and genuine oil paintings adorning the room.

The tall oak door opposite the elevator opened, and a haggard looking house elf bowed before him. 'Master bes expecting you, Mr Greco.'

The elf held the door open for him. Something in his posture was strange, and Nicholas took another look.

The elf held one of his arms rather unnatural, as if it was stiff. Poor creature; how had that happened?

More gleaming marble in the entrance hall of the apartment, this time interspersed with a mural made of golden tiles. The elf ushered Nicholas into a reception room opposite of the entrance. The big, ornate desk in one corner of the room marked it as a study, though comfortable leather chairs scattered around the room and a bar made up in an ancient cabin trunk suggested it was also a private retreat. Through an open door Nicholas caught a look into an adjoining cavernous reception room and suppressed another whistle.

Morgana's tits, how could Morten Williams afford such a splendor? The earnings of a Potion Master, no matter how good, would never pay for all this.

Morten Williams, who rose from a leather chair in front of the window with a commanding look over Hyde Park, interrupted his musings.

'Mr Greco, how do you do?'

They shook hands, Williams invited him to sit down on the leather couch in front of the fireplace, took a seat in a chair at the side of the couch, crossed his feet at the ankles, and put his hands on the armrests.

Nicholas took stock of his appearance. The Potters both had told him that Williams' success with the ladies was the stuff of legends at Crystal Fairy. Now he understood why; the man stood out among British males. Tall and broad shouldered, with unruly, sun-streaked locks, a body that might have been a model for Michelangelo, and innocent boyish looks to go with that he was the human equivalent to a fox set loose in the chicken coop of Crystal Fairy's female and single employees.

'How can I be of service, Mr Greco? You wrote Mr Potter asked you to investigate the last hours of Ms Weasley's life in preparation for Mrs Potter's defence. I have to say, I'm as shocked as anyone about the charges pressed against her. I don't think she's capable of cold blooded murder, and of course I want to help in any way I can. The Potters are such a likeable young couple, it's a shame they have to go through this.'

'Mr Williams, I don't like beating around the bush,' Nicholas said and opened his notepad, his biro at the ready. 'It was brought to my attention that you and Ms Weasley left the promotional party together. This makes you a person of interest as one of the last persons been seen with her. May I ask about the nature of your relationship with Ms Weasley?'

A blush crept into Williams' face that enhanced his boyish looks. 'Well, you surely don't mince words, Mr Greco.' His fingers gripped around the armrest. 'I suppose you've also heard about the incident with the barbecue grill?'

Nicholas nodded to that.

'Ms Weasley… Ginny was bowled over when Mr Potter Summoned his wife towards him to rescue her from the flames. Naturally, he was very concerned for her and made sure she was alright. It was plain to see Ginny felt somewhat neglected by him, so I stepped in and supported her. It's my understanding that Ginny returned to England only recently and has… had lost contact to most of her old friends, so maybe it was not surprising she reacted to my gesture much… uh... friendlier than I had expected.' The boyish blush on his face deepened, and he gave an embarrassed shrug of his shoulders.

'I'm only a man, and if a beautiful woman like Ginny asks you to take her home, you don't say no. While I believe that a real gentleman should kiss and never tell, I also want to make sure that Ginny's murder is caught. So, yes, we spent the night together. I left early in the morning.'

'Thank you for your openness, Mr Williams. Did you and Ms Weasley meet again in the two days that led up to her death?'

Again, Williams gripped his hands around the armrests for a brief moment. 'Yes, we met on Sunday for dinner, and we had another date planned for Monday afternoon. Ginny came to my flat in the afternoon, but had to leave a short time later because of problems with the photo shoot she'd had that morning. I never again saw her.' He pressed his lips in a tight line, and his left foot tapped the ground.

A jolt went through Nicholas' body, and his heartbeat sped up. He schooled his face into a bland mask, while his insides did a small jig. Mrs Potter had been right, Williams was "weapon". From the looks of the man he didn't have to be a genius to realise that Ms Weasley had meant to use him to evoke Mr Potter's jealousy. However, it might have worked in very different ways she envisioned.

He cast Williams another look. So, Williams tried to hide his rendez-vous with Ginny on Monday night. His body language was a dead give-away, the crossed ankles, tapping foot, and hands gripped around the armrests were a sign he felt uncomfortable, maybe even afraid. Wasn't there a faint sheen of sweat on his upper lip, too? Had Williams killed Ginny Weasley in a fit of jealousy because he found out about her relationship with Zabini and had realised she'd used him?

'May I ask where you were from Monday around four to Tuesday morning around eight?'

Again, there was that almost imperceptible gripping of the armrest. Williams was going to serve him another lie.

'After Ms Weasley had to cancel our date, I spent the afternoon at my flat.' Williams made a gesture with his hand that included the room. 'I retired to bed around midnight, got up at seven and went to work about a quarter to eight. My elves can vouch for that.'

Nicholas closed his notepad, put the pad and the biro into his pocket, and got to his feet. 'Thank you for your time, Mr Williams. You helped a lot to shed some light on this case.'

On his way down to the entrance hall Nicholas pondered the interview. Something with the alibi Williams had given him didn't ring true. Well, it very likely wasn't true, since Williams probably had been Ginny Weasley's dinner guest and bed partner. However, how to prove that?

Nicholas still pondered that problem when the elevator halted and the doors opened. Nicholas stepped into the splendor of the entrance hall.

Come to think of it, nothing about Morten Williams rang true. He couldn't put his finger on it, not yet, but his gut that had never failed him in his long and successful career told him that Mr Morten Williams warranted a closer investigation, and not only because of his possible involvement in the death of Ginevra Weasley.

 _t.b.c_


	90. Chapter 87

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** A huge thank you to my wonderful editor Shygui. As always, he did a marvellous job. I hope you have a very relaxing holiday, my friend!

I meant to post this yesterday, but after the horrible news from Sri Lanka I didn't feel like that anymore.

Chapter **85** to **87** , 22/04/19

* * *

 **87**

 _ **Morten Williams' flat, May 22nd 2008**_

He looked out of the window that overlooked Hyde Park and listened to the elf ushering Greco towards the door, his stomach was still twisted in a hard knot, and his jaw clenched. How close on his heels was Greco? Had it been a mistake to admit to his date with Weasley on Monday afternoon?

The front door clicked shut, the small noise almost drowned out by the hammering of his heart, followed by tiny elven feet scurrying across the hall towards the kitchen.

He let out a deep breath of relief, and his shoulders slumped forward. No, he'd had to admit to Weasley's visit in his flat; she'd been announced by the concierge, all Greco had to do was asking him to find out that he'd been lying, and that would have opened him up to further scrutiny.

And yet, the prickling of his skin and this extra awareness that made every noise louder and every colour just a little brighter wouldn't fade away.

Was he in danger of being found out?

He took a deep breath and tried to engage his paltry Occlumency shields to calm himself down. The hammering in his chest subsided slowly, and the ability to think rationally set in once again.

No, if anything, Greco was suspicious of Williams involvement in the death of Ginevra Weasley. He'd never suspect that there was also a dark wizard behind the facade of the surfer boy, and what his greater scheme was. Why should he?

He lowered his head and cupped his chin in thought, had it been a mistake not to admit to having spend the night with Weasley? The problem with admitting that he'd been there was that he had no idea who that other wizard was who'd almost barged in on them early in the morning! The slut must have died almost immediately after he'd made a hasty retreat. Admitting to have stayed with her was like sticking his neck into the hangman's noose. Magical Britain was still fundamentally corrupt, unlike magical U.S.A., he had no desire to play the scapegoat in the case of the murder of Weasley, especially considering the money that the bastard Potter and the Greengrass whore had to bring to bare on the potential subject of his guilt.

Well, Williams was expendable if Greco decided to sink his teeth into him. He'd sacrifice him in a heartbeat if push came to shove and flee to France. That was still close enough to finish his great plan. He cast a side glance at the trunk in his study. Thanks to his permanent guest it would be no problem to provide Greco with a body and the end of this particular lead.

But not yet. The agony in Potter's eyes and the fear of his whore were so amusing. It would be a shame to miss the climax of the theatrics, when the happy couple was torn apart.

Yes, he still had time until the end of the trial.

 _t.b.c._


	91. Chapter 88

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** A huge thank you to my faithful beta Shygui for editing these two chapters. You're the best!

Chapters **88** and **89** , 28/04/19

* * *

 **88**

 _ **Nicholas Greco's house, May 22nd 2008**_

It had been a long day. The hunt for Zabini yielded no results. It was almost midnight when Nicholas sat down at the desk in his small office and added his interview with Morten Williams to the file. He'd just finished and decided to call it a day, when the Banishing Box on his desk chimed, a sign of new incoming mail.

Nicholas jumped. Was that the report from his contact in the States he'd been waiting for? A tap of his wand revealed a manila folder at the bottom of the box. He picked it up and looked at the sender. It was.

'Yesss!' He pumped his fist in the air, before collecting himself and sitting back at his desk.

With eager fingers he tore the envelope open, and four thin folders slid into his hands. They were labelled _Clay Cheevers, Alexander Carrington, Elias Frudge_ and _Morten Williams._ He flipped the first folder about Clay Cheevers open and began to read.

Cheevers had led a significantly public life, at least from the moment he'd begun to play Quidditch. The scion of a wealthy East Coast family, he'd been homeschooled and had then attended the Salem Institute to obtain a mastery in Herbology, where he had become best friends with his roommates Frudge and Williams. He'd joined the college Quidditch team during his first semester and at once had become the star Chaser of the team. The Taos Tornados had offered him a contract the moment he'd finished his studies, and he'd stayed on the team as a starting Chaser ever since then. A couple of years ago he'd married the proverbial girl from next door, obviously his childhood sweetheart, and meanwhile they had two kids. The summary of the mere fact was accompanied by a stack of newspaper clippings and photos.

There was no hint about an affair between Cheevers and Weasley; in fact, not the smallest trace of scandal was connected to Cheevers' name, everyone his contact had talked to had only good things to say about the man. His only connection to the Weasley case seemed to be that he'd been teammates with her, was best friends with two men who'd been involved with her, and was acquainted with a third who was related to Daphne Potter.

Nicholas lowered the folder. Was that just freak happenstance? Well, stranger things happened. It was hard to see why a man like Cheevers, who seemed to be a thoroughly likeable fellow and happily married man, should harbour a grudge against Ginny Weasley big enough to kill her.

He put down Cheever's folder and picked up the next one, Alexander Carrington, which was much slimmer than the other three. In fact, it contained just one sheet of paper, on which his contact had listed the main stations of Carrington's life. A blurred photo of a young man in black robes supporting a small woman, also in black, who had pressed a handkerchief to her eyes, was attached to the sheet.

Contrary to Cheevers, Carrington had led a very private life. The Carringtons were insanely rich and infamous for their Pureblood Supremacist leanings. There were the still unsubstantiated rumours of Carrington gold supporting Voldemort in both wars. A couple of years before Voldemort's first downfall Nancy Carrington, the last of her family and heiress to the vast fortune, had married a young wizard from England, allegedly one of Voldemort's followers, who had been cast out by his family for his political leanings.

Nicholas lowered the sheet of paper in his hands. That had been Dorian Greengrass; apparently his contact in the U.S.A. hadn't made the connection to Cyrus Greengrass and his daughter. He read on.

Alexander was the only child of Nancy Carrington and Dorian Greengrass, and his mother insisted he should carry the Carrington name. He'd been homeschooled until he was eleven, and then been sent to Durmstrang. He'd returned after his N.E.W.T.s, and obtained a Potions Mastery at the Salem Institute, where he roomed with Cheevers, Frudge and Williams. While the latter three were best friends, according to Cheevers' file, Carrington seemed to have been the odd one out, though he sometimes was included in their group.

After his graduation he'd worked for a short time as a Potions Master for Frudge's company, more out of interest for the subject than of real need, until he was called home because of the death of his father, and had to take care of his ailing mother after that. He lived with his mother until her death in 2003, when he closed the Carrington house in Salem, Massachusetts, and moved to Paris, France. Unlike his parents, Carrington had never given a hint about his political leanings, so he was widely assumed to be neutral.

Nicholas leaned back in his chair, lowered his head and burrowed his chin in his hand. The lack of material in the Carrington folder seemed off. Very few scions in the upper echelons of society led such a secluded life. Of course, his mother's illness and his family's reputation might have made him an outcast among his peers. Yet, it was more than that, the report read as if Carrington was almost invisible.

Nicolas tapped his fingers against his chin, eyes unfocused and rearranged what he knew, but even that didn't seem to sit right with what he knew of the Carrington family. He studied the photo that had come with the meagre report. Yes, "invisible" described Alexander Carrington to a tee. While his three roommates all were exceptionally handsome young man, Carrington was the ugly duckling of the lot. He wasn't much taller than his mother, with mouse coloured hair and unremarkable features, a man you met and wouldn't recognise again the next time. Life at Salem with three popular and handsome roommates wouldn't have been easy for him.

Though, there still was the possibility that Carrington had made up for his lack of adventure during his student days in Paris. The gods knew that he had enough money to make his looks negligible.

He chewed on his bottom lip slightly before coming to a decision, he'd better involve one of his contacts in France. Nicholas pulled a sheet of parchment towards him, penned a short letter, included a copy of Carrington's file, and put everything into the Banishing Box.

He looked briefly at his wristwatch: it was well past midnight already. Elizabeth as usual wouldn't be overly impressed if he joined her in bed in the wee hours of the morning. However, after more than thirty years of marriage she was used to the demands of his job, and her complaints barely hid her concern for his health, even if the pay was more than sufficient to keep them in minor luxury. Well, it wouldn't be good for his health, either, if his curiosity to find out more about Frudge and Williams didn't let him sleep anyway.

He picked up the next folder. Compared to Carrington, Elias Frudge had enjoyed all the advantages of a privileged magical upbringing. He'd lost his father early in life and had apparently been the apple of his mother's eye. He'd first entered a private Muggle primary school in his hometown, at age eleven he left it and started his magical education at Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. From there he'd joined Salem Institute and had obtained a mastery in Herbology, as well as being a very active participant in the student community. He'd graduated at the top of his class and joined the family business immediately thereafter. The wad of newspaper clippings and photos added to the report illustrated that part of his life and was even thicker than the wad that had come with Cheevers' report.

Things had become significantly quieter around Frudge after the unexpected death of his mother not long after his graduation from Salem Institute. The young man seemed to have missed her dearly, and seemed to have longed for a family, and faded somewhat into the background of upper class society.

It appeared that it was then that Ginevra Weasley had come into his life. He had fallen for her head over heels and had eloped with her a couple of weeks later. The next two years were defined by a lot of photos of the young couple that showed a beaming Elias Frudge with his adoring wife.

The announcement of their separation had come like a bolt of lightning out of the blue for everyone, including social commentators. While it appeared that Ginny Weasley had continued her life and career as if nothing had happened, Frudge had become even more reclusive than after his mother had died, almost a hermit even. For about six years after their separation he made no public appearance outside of events his family business was involved in.

Then about one year ago Frudge had surprised the magical society of his country with the announcement of his second marriage.

Nicholas studied the photo of the happy couple. The bride was the spitting image of Ginevra Weasley.

He let out a slow whistle and put the photo back into the folder. It seemed Elias Frudge had never got over Ginny Weasley. Had his fixation on her led to a resentment deep enough to kill her? It was a lead worth investigating. He pulled a sheet of parchment to himself and wrote a letter to his contact in the U.S.A.. They needed an in-depth account of Frudge's movements in the days between Ginny Weasley's move back to England and her death.

Morten Williams' file was slimmer than the files of Cheevers and Frudge, but still a lot thicker than Carrington's file. He was a Muggleborn, his formative years were spent in San Clemente, California, not far from several of the most iconic surf breaks in the USA, including T Street, Cottons and Trestles. He too had been educated at Ilvermorny, where he'd met Frudge. Though, it appeared that they seemed to have run in different circles at school and didn't become friends until they entered Salem Institute together. Williams had obtained a mastery in Potions and worked for Frudge's company a couple of years until he quit, attempting to become a professional surfer in the Muggle world. This part of his life was accompanied by a few newspaper clippings and photos. He'd never quite made it to the top and had to give up his dream after a training accident that had stubbornly refused to be fixed by magic. He'd left the U.S.A. after that and had applied for a job with a Crystal Fairy Beauty Products.

His contact had also found out Williams' Muggle relatives. Apparently, they hadn't been happy with his decision to become a professional surfer, which had led to a rift in the family. That rift seemed to have deepened after Williams' move to England: his mother complained he hadn't written home once since then, and as Muggles she and her husband had no means to reach him in magical Britain. His contact had also provided a photo of Williams' Muggle parents: a good looking couple in front of a modest home somewhere in Florida that they had moved to not long ago.

Nicolas frowned, his mind now racing. Williams came from a modest Muggle background and had never had gold beside his earnings as a Potions Master. How by Merlin's saggy underpants could he afford his lifestyle? His gut feeling had been dead on: something fundamentally didn't add up with Morten Williams, other than his lies about the last time he'd seen Ginevra Weasley.

A grin flickered across his face as he reached out for his Muggle stationary. You had to love Muggle bureaucracy, it came in handy in cases like this one. A letter to Her Majesty's Land Registry would give him the information about the ownership of Williams' luxury flat, and from there he could dig deeper.

 _t.b.c._


	92. Chapter 89

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** A huge thank you to my faithful beta Shygui for editing these two chapters. You're the best!

Chapters **88** and **89** , 28/04/19

* * *

 **89**

 _ **Ministry of Magic, May 23rd 2008**_

Saturday nights were always a busy time at the DMLE. Too many wizards and witches went out to party and had more drinks than were good for them, which led to more brawls and violations against the Statute of Secrecy than the Hit Wizards and the Obliviators could handle, so the Auror Department had to step in and make up for the shortfall in man power. It also presented an opportunity, should one need one, and for him it was just the right time to slip into his office without anyone noticing and get some papers he'd meant to work on for a long time, but never had the time to.

Every Auror on duty was busy; nobody paid him any heed when he strode through the department towards the door of his office. Although the strong Notice Me Not Charm he'd cast on himself might have something to do with that.

Ron opened the door just wide enough to slip through and threw a last look over his shoulder if anyone had seen him.

One of the Senior Aurors looked up and craned his neck out of his cubicle.

Dean. Damn it, he must have noticed the movement of his door from the corner of his eyes.

Dean's eyebrows shot up, then he gave him a conspiratorial grin and turned his attention back to the papers in front of him.

Ron let out a breath. It would be a field day for Roper if she got wind that he'd been in the office while he was supposed to be keeping away.

Before he could enter his office the Flo at the opposite side of the big room flared up. Two Aurors stepped out, Mundungus Fletcher between them. The years since the end of the war hadn't been good to the old spiv: his matted hair was completely grey, his clothing was even more shabby and faded since the last time he'd seen him, and his bulbous, purple nose bore the telltale signs of overindulgence in too much Firewhisky.

'I wanna deal!' Mundungus shouted as soon as he stepped out of the flames. 'Get tha head o' DMLE. I've got informations she bes needing to knows 'bout da Potter bird!'

Ron's insides grew cold. What by Merlin's saggy balls did Mundungus know about Daphne and could it harm her?

The two Aurors who held Fletcher exchanged a look over his head. 'You'd better inform the Deputy,' the older one said.

Aw shit, it was Proudfoot, another relic from the days before the war, and a strong supporter of Dawlish and Roper. He'd like nothing better than to find incriminating evidence against Daphne - though, what Mundungus might have found out against Daphne was beyond him. Yet, you never knew; the old scoundrel had his ear on the ground of wizarding Britain, the information he was able to come across was baffling.

Ron made up his mind within a split second. He cast a Disillusion Charm on himself, closed the door to his office, and pressed himself against the walls of the big office.

It didn't take long until Proudfoot's partner returned, Dawlish and Roper in his wake.

'We'll talk to Fletcher in the Head Auror's office,' Roper said. 'Thomas, you'll be in charge of ensuring his statement is recorded.'

'Yes, Madam Director,' Dean said, got up from his chair and opened a drawer of his desk to get out a Dicta Quill and parchment.

Proudfoot and his partner led Mundungus to the Head Auror office, with Roper and Dawlish following them. He opened the door, let Roper and Dawlish precede, and then shoved Mundungus into the room. He left the door open behind himself for Dean to follow them.

This was his chance. Ron didn't think twice, he glided through the open door and positioned himself next to it flat against the wall, the only place that wasn't covered by bookshelves and filing cabinets. Nobody noticed; everyone was still busy to find a seat. He'd acted not a second too soon, either: Dean came into the room and closed the door behind himself. His eyes flickered for the briefest of seconds towards the seemingly blank spot next to the door, and he gave him an imperceptible wink, before he conjured a chair for himself and sat down at a small side table.

How did he know? Oh well, he must have noticed a disturbance in the air when he glided into the room. Thank Merlin Dean was an ally and wouldn't blab a word to Roper.

'Well, Fletcher, what do you have to offer?' Roper asked when everything was set up.

'It's 'bout da Potter bird,' Fletcher said and licked his lips. 'Somebody want to do her in.'

'Want to do her in?' Roper's eyebrows went up.

'Yeah.' Mundungus gave an eager nod. ''eard it at the _Basilisk's Fang_ in Knockturn. Someone bought a contract on the bird. Shame 'bout that. Don't find too many pretty birds like that un.'

Ron's insides went cold for a second time that night. So, he'd been right all along. All these "accidents" his friends had had to go through had been cold blooded attempted assassinations, and they were not yet over.

Roper and Dawlish exchanged a look.

'Who bought the contract?' Roper asked.

Mundungus shrugged his shoulders. 'Dunno. Ye know 't ain't working like that, ma'am. Likely been through five or six stages 'fore I got wind o' it.'

That was probably true. Mundungus was near the bottom of the criminal food chain, it was unlikely he'd learned anything more than the fact that there was a contract upon Daphne. And if he did, the old hand was too shrewd to show all his cards: knowledge like this might prove deadly if he wasn't careful.

Roper rolled her eyes, put her hands on the flat of the desk in a final gesture, and shook her head. 'That's not enough for a deal, Fletcher, and you know it. Had you offered something that had lent additional evidence to the case against Potter, things would be different. This however …' She made a short pause and shrugged. 'I doubt anyone in magical Britain cares if the bitch is dead. They'll most likely going to offer her killer an award, given that he'd free the Chosen One of her, if what was in that anonymous letter was any indication.' She waved her hand at Proudfoot. 'Take him away.'

Proudfoot and his partner hauled a protesting Mundungus up and dragged him out of the room.

Director Roper leaned back in the seat behind the desk - his seat - her outstretched arm fiddling with the corner of the blotter. 'I had hoped he had some new evidence against the Potter woman,' she said to Dawlish as soon as the Aurors and Mundungus had left the room. 'Even if that anonymous letter and all those photographs confirms our initial suspicions, more evidence is always good. We know that Potter was definitely blackmailed into marrying her by her father, with Greengrass as the willing accomplice. Nevertheless he obviously didn't let go of Weasley and met with her whenever he was in the U.S.A. She must have been furious about that. When her father died, Potter decided he could get free from her. He waited until Weasley had dissolved her last marriage, then he brought her back from the States and established her in his most luxurious house, one that happens to be strategically next to his, and gave her a huge chunk of money for doing nothing.' She let out a snort. 'Model, my backside! Paid mistress is more likely. His wife sensed the danger, and as a last resort she became pregnant to hold him. After all, they are married for ten years, and she'd never shown a sign she was willing to start a family, so why now? When that didn't work, she killed Weasley.'

She had forgotten about Dean, who still sat at the side of the room. At Roper's words, he cast a look into Ron's direction and rolled his eyes.

He was right. All Roper had was circumstantial evidence, a cauldron of conjecture and penchant to remove Harry and Daphne from their seats of power for her brother, and since when were anonymous letters a reliable source for the prosecution?

Yet he couldn't deny that Daphne was in serious trouble, there was a significant amount of that bloody circumstantial evidence, and if you squinted enough it looked damning. Roper might not have investigated properly, but that was of secondary importance if her brother managed to put together a panel of judges that was in his pocket, they wouldn't look too closely at the evidence presented by the DMLE if that was the case, anyway.

Fuck!

Still ignoring Dean, Roper got up from her seat and left the room, Dawlish in tow. She left the door ajar.

Dean gathered his papers and also got up. 'After you,' he murmured, without looking into Ron's direction. 'I'll come over to your place after my shift; there are a couple of other things you need to know.'

* * *

 _ **Oxford, May 24th 2008**_

Ron couldn't get to sleep that night. Instead he lay there with far to many thoughts running through his mind, maybe this was how Hermione always felt? He had to inform Harry about the contract on Daphne first thing in the morning. And what did Dean want to tell him? Would it shed some new light on Ginny's death? Would it help Harry and Daphne? Hopefully; Dean had never belonged to their close friends during their Hogwarts days, but they had been roommates, and he'd been in the D.A., and when push came to shove he was loyal to Harry.

He turned over in his bed once more.

Hermione put a hand on his arm. 'Get some rest, love. You're going to find out what Dean wants soon enough.' Her voice sounded drowsy, and a small pang of guilt jolted through him.

This was as hard on her as it was on him. Harry was like a brother to her, and Daphne was her first and probably closest female friend. Over the last couple of days she had become very pale and withdrawn; the strain of the whole situation was obviously getting at her. What a prat he was only to think of himself at a time like this!

He turned around and took her into his arms. 'I'm sorry, my precious one, I didn't want to keep you awake all night.'

'Then quit thinking so loud and sleep, for Morgana's sake. Staying awake won't help at all.' She adjusted herself in his arms and put her head against his shoulder. Soon her breath was deep and even.

Her advice was sound, as always. He leaned his cheek against her head and closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep.

When he opened his eyes the next time, the room was bathed in the light of the early morning. Hermione was still sound asleep, cuddled against his side. He groped for his wristwatch on the flat of his bedside table and took a look. Dean's shift would be over in another thirty minutes.

With a suppressed cuss word he got up. Hermione didn't even stir. He hurried through his morning routine and went down into the kitchen to prepare some tea and breakfast. The tea-kettle whistled just in time with the sound of Dean's Apparition.

He opened the back door for him. 'Morning, Dean. Rough night?'

'You have no idea,' Dean said, suppressed a yawn, and slumped down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

Ron went to the counter and prepared a mug of tea for him. 'Here you go.' He handed the mug to Dean, who accepted with a grateful smile and took a sip.

The lines of fatigue in his face lessened somewhat, and he glanced at his wristwatch. 'I don't have much time; we're scheduled to visit Parvati's parents today, together with the kids, and I'd like to catch some sleep before then. I just wanted to bring you up to speed regarding the investigation into your sister's death and the absolute farce Dawlish and Roper are making of it.'

Ron prepared a mug of tea for himself and sat down opposite of Dean. 'How bad is it?'

'Very.' Dean took sip of tea, as if to fortify himself. 'I was part of the investigative team that went inside of _Stinchcombe Hall_ as soon as Harry gave us the news. That was about as far as standard protocol went, Dawlish insisted on doing most of the work himself. He took only Proudfoot in with him, even though the Unspeakable somehow managed to get ahead of them and to examine Ginny's body. If he hadn't done that we wouldn't even have an estimation of time of death. Dawlish got furious about that "new fangled nonsense" and threw him out of the room.' He shook his head and took another sip of tea.

'The rest of us were left downstairs, cooling our heels. Eventually I pretended to be curious and wandered through the ground floor.' He let out a low whistle. 'Have you ever been there?'

Ron nodded. 'Yeah, at receptions. Harry and Daphne don't like the place much.'

Dean shook his head. 'I'm not surprised. It's ridiculously ostentatious. All that pomp is so unlike Harry, isn't it?' He didn't wait for Ron's answer. 'As far as I can tell, your sister used very little of the space available. There were a couple bathing suits in the changing room of the pool annexe, that's about the only personal things I could discover. The drawing room, the study and the library showed no sign she ever set her foot into them. It was different with the dining room, though.'

He shifted in his seat, his eyes cast on the table. 'Damn, this isn't an easy thing to tell you, Ron.'

He gave a mirthless chuckle. 'Out with it, Dean. I'm not a Victorian lady, but your boss. I doubt anything my sister has done will scandalise me; not after ten years in the Auror Department.'

'Right, good point.' Dean took another sip of tea. 'Well, the table was set for two, with the remains of a cold dinner on it. So we can assume she had a guest for dinner. A male guest.' He hesitated, bit his lips, and let out a sign. 'No use trying to sugarcoat it, Ron. You'll have to hear about it and somehow get the information to Harry. I found a used condom on the floor of the dining room. I put it into an evidence bag, tagged it into the evidence chain of custody and gave it to the Unspeakable without Dawlish noticing. The Unspeakable promised to conduct a magical DNA analysis.' He shrugged. 'I know that I should have handed the evidence to Dawlish, but you know what he thinks of the methods the Unspeakables have developed after the war. He probably would have thrown the evidence into the waste bin or vanished it on the spot, but he can't touch the Unspeakables, so I knew it would be safe.'

Ron's stomach dropped. So, he'd been right all along: Ginny had potentially hooked up with the wrong bloke. His breath hitched, and he turned his head away from Dean to blink away the sudden sting in his eyes. Merlin be praised that she at least hadn't suffered.

He took a sip of tea to wash away the lump in his throat. 'Good thinking, Dean. Let's hope we'll have a match for the bastard in our files. I'm sure that it'll come up in the trial, since it proves that Ginny was likely with someone after Daphne left. Roper will probably give you a hard time because you have theoretically violated protocol and made her and Dawlish look like the fools they are. But you can count on me, I will have your back and if needs be I'll take the hit on this.'

'I don't doubt that, Ron, and thanks,' Dean said and drained his mug. 'My gut tells me we won't find a match in our archive. The Department grapevine says Harry has put a private investigator on the trail of the perpetrator. If he can come up with a likely suspect, then we might get our match.' He stood up and let out a huge yawn. 'I've gotta go, or Parvati will have my hide for breakfast instead of bacon. Thanks for the tea.'

'You're welcome, and … thanks, Dean. You have no idea what that means to me.'

Dean gave him a wry smile. 'Don't mention it. I'd feel the same if it were Seamus. Besides that, Harry and Daphne are decent people, who have done more for our world than people recognise, they don't deserve what Roper and Dawlish are doing to them.'

With a last wave at Ron, he went out of the door and Apparated away.

 _t.b.c._


	93. Chapter 90

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Please, don't forget to drop a heartfelt thank you for my fabulous editor Shygui. His dedication to this story, even after the long time he is bern working on it, is amazing. You are the best, my friend!

Chapter **90** and **91** , 05/05/19

* * *

 **90**

 _ **The Rectory, May 24th 2008**_

Ron's letter arrived during Sunday breakfast. Pigwidgeon had long since passed on to the eternal blue owl skies, but not before he managed to somehow reproduce. His son was just as small as Pig and was every bit as excitable. Right now, the tiny bird circled around the lamp of the breakfast room, giving happy hoots as he went.

Harry sighed and absently rubbed at his temple as if in pain. 'This kinda gives me deja-vu,' he muttered as he flicked his wand. 'Accio, Hulk.' The tiny owl gave a surprised squeak and zoomed into his hands.

Daphne giggled. 'I'll never understand by Merlin what got into Hermione when she named that tiny thing Hulk?'

Harry cast his wife a wry grin while he fumbled with the strings that tied the letter to the owl's leg. 'As I recall, it wasn't entirely her fault. I believe that you, Lisa, Fleur, and a few bottles of elven wine also played a large part in that, if my memory doesn't deceive me. The nefarious deed was done when we blokes came back, and the damned bird wouldn't listen to any other name.'

'I have no idea what you're talking about.' Daphne sniffed with feigned innocence.

'Of course not, you were plastered like a sailor. Ah, gotcha!' Harry had finally wrestled the letter from Hulk's leg, evaded the crust of toast Daphne threw at him with a practised twist to the side, and let go of the owl.

Hulk gave his feathers an indignant shake, glared balefully at Harry and then flew across to Daphne, before he took a sip of her pumpkin juice and nibbled on one of her toast crusts smeared with nutella.

Harry eyed her choice of breakfast food with a wary eye. 'Are you returning to kindergarten food, love?'

'It's the only food that stays down,' Daphne said with a grimace.

'I'm sorry.'

She snorted. 'What, for putting a potion in my cauldron?' She waggled an accusatory finger at him. 'No, buster, you're not. Now, what does Ron write?'

'You'll find out in another minute if you'll let me read the letter,' Harry said and unfolded the sheet of parchment.

She poked her tongue out at him, but left him to his reading without any more cheeky comments.

Harry read the letter, and had not even read half of it when his stomach turned into a hard rock, and the hair on his arms and the nape of his neck lifted. He bit his lips. So, Ron had been right all along: there had been an assassin behind all these accidents they had had. And this time they were after Daphne.

He cast a look from behind his letter at his wife, who patted Hulk and whispered silly things to the tiny owl. For the first time since Tuesday she had an almost carefree expression on her face, despite the axe which hovered over their heads. The paleness of her skin had given way to a healthy glow and her hair once more had life in it. His heart sank. He'd hate to see the smile fading from her lips when he had to tell her and give way to the lines of worry that seemed to been etched even deeper into her beautiful face ever since they got the news of Ginny's death.

He pressed his lips together. He'd be a fool if he cast Ron's warning into the wind. Thank Merlin Daphne wasn't allowed to leave the grounds of _The Rectory_ right now. Thanks to their excellent wards she was safe here, and on her way to the courtroom she'd be surrounded by an Auror guard. That was about the only silver lining of their current situation.

He rubbed his face with the palm of his free hand and cast another look on the letter. Why now? Didn't they have enough on their plates already?

Ron seemed to think Lucius Malfoy was behind it, once again. After all, he'd left Azkaban not that long ago.

And yet … Would Malfoy be foolish enough to risk the freedom he'd just gained? Rumours said he was a broken shell of the former man he had been, so would he still be out for revenge?

Harry shook his head. No, Ron had been right when it came to the assassinations, but he was dead wrong about Lucius. There had been so many "accidents or incidents" over the years, and from what he could see not one of them could be linked to Lucius, so why should he be behind it this time? That made no sense.

And yet, Cyrus, Isabella and Tori had been killed by a perfidious assassination, and there were the threats Lucius had made right after he'd been sentenced to Azkaban. If Lucius wasn't the common denominator, then who was?

Again, he rubbed his face with the palm of his hand. He was overlooking something, he knew it was there, right below the surface of his consciousness. But what?

He let his eyes wander through the cosy breakfast room. Isabella's prized Everblooming Orchids were as beautiful as ever. The elves had opened the French doors to the patio, a balmy spring breeze wafted into the room, carrying the scent of the lilac bushes that were planted at the side of the house. No matter what happened, the serene atmosphere of _The Rectory_ never failed to soothe him. As far as he could remember, there only had been one downright unpleasant evening he'd spent here, way back, when Daphne and he had just got married, and Cyrus had been furious at his daughter because he thought she was going to leave her new husband -.

He gasped and went straight in his chair. Cyrus! Cyrus and the hundreds of secrets he'd liked to hoard about everyone he met or thought it likely he would meet. What if he'd stumbled upon something dangerous without even realising it? What if the owner of that secret knew about Cyrus' obsession and decided to protect himself at all costs, even if that meant to get rid of Cyrus and his potential heirs?

His stomach squirmed, and he shoved his plate away.

Daphne looked up from feeding the owl. 'Is something wrong, honey?'

Harry shook his head and forced a smile on his lips. There was no way he was going to tell her about Ron's letter, at least not right away. She had enough on her plate to deal with right now, and for the time being she was safely tucked away at _The Rectory._ Although he'd better make sure she never got wind of him hiding something this big from her, or she'd make him sleep on the couch until their silver wedding anniversary. He suppressed a snort. 'No, it's just Ron not taking his forced leave of absence very well.'

Daphne gave him a thoughtful look. 'If you say so. Maybe one of these days you'll stop wrapping me in pink acromantula silk, honey. I'm pregnant, not breakable.'

That was yet to be determined. Damn, she knew him too well. 'I'm sorry, love. It's something I have to give some thought before I can talk about it, can you accept that?'

'If you say so.' Her voice sounded flat, and she returned to her horrible breakfast.

His stomach gave yet another squirm. Over the last couple of days Daphne had become rather sensitive and, well, to be honest, unreasonable. He'd expected the hormonal changes would lead to mood swings, after all he'd commiserated often enough with Bill, Justin and Ron through the pregnancies of their respective wives. Nothing, however, had prepared him for actually living with a pregnant witch deep in the clutches of the hormones.

Oh well, he'd make it up to her as soon as he'd finished reading Ron's letter. Thankfully, Daphne's bouts of bad humour never lasted too long.

 _I'm sorry to have more bad news for you,_ Ron wrote. _Someone sent an anonymous letter to your favourite head of department that added to the blackmail story she already knew from my mother. The letter also provided photographic evidence that you have been seeing Ginny whenever you were in the U.S.A._

Harry bit his lip. Daphne had told him that Ginny had sent her photos of them together each time after one of his trips to the U.S.A. Obviously another set of prints had found their way to Britain. He had to inform Anthony and Greco of that. Maybe that would give them another lead to chase down. He sighed and returned to the letter.

 _A mutual friend stumbled over something interesting when he visited your humble adobe from the Potter line: a johnny full of male love cells. He sent it to the mysterious guys in the basement. If that PI of yours comes across a name of interest, he'd better make sure to get a DNA sample._

His breath caught, and his heartbeat quickened. They already suspected Williams had been with Ginny that night. If Greco could get a DNA sample of the man… Was this the breakthrough they had hoped for?

 _t.b.c._


	94. Chapter 91

**91**

 **Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Please, don't forget to drop a heartfelt thank you for my fabulous editor Shygui. His dedication to this story, even after the long time he is bern working on it, is amazing. You are the best, my friend!

Chapter **90** and **91** , 05/05/19

* * *

 **91**

 _ **Malfoy Manor, May 24th 2008**_

Lucius Malfoy contemplated his reflection in the mirror of his dressing room. The practice had become an unhealthy addiction ever since his release had been secured from Azkaban; it made him furious when he thought about all that time Potter and Greengrass had forced him to waste as he rotted in prison. He mourned at the sight his now dull eyes observed, he was nothing more than a wreck of a man, there was nothing left of his aristocratic looks, instead in front of his eyes stood a man mocking him with his own frailness.

The robes of black Acromantula silk, embroidered with rich gold thread, did nothing to hide his pale complexion and his thinning yellowish-grey hair. At least the expert cut hid his pot belly; Twillfit hadn't lost his touch with a scissor and needles during all these years they had locked him up like a dog.

He took a breath and squared his shoulders. No, he'd not go down that path; not today. He couldn't afford to show any weakness, he had to present himself as the figurehead of their gallant cause and take back the reins of power for what little time he had left.

His knees almost buckled as a burning pain raced from his heart into his left arm. His right hand grabbed his upper arm with a low, suppressed groan, and his face scrunched up in pain. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead, and his vision swam.

The attack seemed to go on forever. His ragged breaths filled the room.

A felt eternity later the pain lessened, ebbed away. Lucius straightened, loosened the grip on his upper arm, and frowned at the wrinkles his hand had left in the precious material.

He reached for his ebony cane that leaned against the wall, next to him. Once it had been a mere accessory, meant to distinguish him from the majority of the plain-dressed wizards out there who couldn't afford anything better. Nowadays he needed the damned stick to ensure that he did not to faceplant every time he ventured out of his rooms.

The cane housed his wand as it always had. He curled his fingers around it and drew it slowly from the holster's confines; it felt cold to his touch, like a stranger. A grimace crossed his features, it had been that way ever since he came back from that gods forsaken island. His lips curled into a mocking smile. Even his wand had deserted him. Was it because of the time his Lord had used it? And if so, why should that have made a difference? Shouldn't he have felt an even deeper connection to his wand then, given that his master had graced it with his powerful magic?

Whatever the reason, it was of no consequence, it still worked well enough for most everyday-spells, and he could bend it to his will when needed. He moved the wand across his person. The wrinkles in his sleeves smoothed out, his hair became fuller and had a silky sheen, and his skin appeared to have a healthy glow with fewer wrinkles.

He cast a last look at his image in the mirror. Yes, that would do.

He stepped out of his dressing room and walked down to the entrance hall. Draco was already waiting for him next to the huge fireplace that served as the primary Floo connection of Malfoy Manor.

He bowed his head. 'Father.'

Draco always showed him the respect he was due as the head of their house - whatever that was worth these days. Outside these walls it was currently worth squat, but that would change; ten years in Azkaban had been too long, other players had taken up where the Malfoys had left off, though not of their own will. Draco hadn't been the man to keep what was theirs. Merlin knew the boy was too squeamish to do what was absolutely necessary to keep the power he had cultivated.

That was another of his failures; he'd been too soft on the boy.

Draco stepped to the side and let him precede into the Floo. A dizzying journey later he stepped out into an elegant parlour.

His host held out a hand that allowed him to keep his footing. 'Welcome to Nott Hall, Lord Malfoy.' He let go of his hand and gave him a deep bow.

Everard Nott had taught his son well, he knew to respect his betters. Too bad he hadn't inherited his father's masculinity: with his narrow, stooped shoulders, soft features, and long, mouse-coloured locks he looked like a girl, and a rather plain one at that.

Behind him, the Floo flared, and Draco stepped out. It was Draco, not their host, who introduced him to the three other young men in the room, Cormac McLaggen, Zacharias Smith and Matthew Ingersoll.

'Ingersoll came over from the States to aid our cause,' Draco said as he introduced the young man. 'It has been … rather difficult to recruit here in Britain.'

'Damned Aurors have their eyes and ears everywhere,' Nott said.

Lucius gave a noncommittal nod to that, his face bland, even though the hairs on the nape of his neck rose. Something didn't add up here.

Nott led them to the dining room and installed him at the place of honour at the head of the table.

The meal was scrumptious; he wouldn't have expected anything less at Nott Hall. Yet, he wasn't able to do it justice. His stomach churned like the sea at the bottom of the cliffs during a storm. From behind his lowered eyelids he appraised Ingersoll, who sat next to his son on the right side of the table, while Draco and Nott brought him up to speed about the things they hadn't been able to speak about during visiting time whilst he had been a resident of Azkaban.

Their organisation was once again doing well, all things considered, although nowadays they were dabbling in businesses he'd have thought way below him in his day. Hired assassins and Muggle drugs - oh, how the mighty had fallen! However, they had a lifestyle to maintain, and gold was gold, even if it came from filthy Mudbloods.

A broad grin appeared on Draco's face. 'I bet you're delighted to hear this, Father. Someone has placed a contract on Potter's whore.'

A wave of cold rippled from his stomach through his body, like waves on the surface of a pond after you'd thrown a stone, followed by the familiar pain. There was a sudden movement in the corner of his eyes: Ingersoll jerked his head towards Draco. He didn't have time to dwell on that right now. The pain intensified, threatened to sweep over him completely. He forced his mind to think, Oh Merlin, he had raised an even bigger idiot than he had thought. Why was that fool grinning like a loon? Didn't he know he'd be back in Azkaban within a heartbeat if anything happened to Potter's wife? She was a Greengrass by birth, and the DMLE hadn't forgotten his threats against that family.

He clenched his teeth against the pain, and his hand gripped around the edge of the table until the knuckles stood out white. 'You fool,' he said with gritted teeth. 'Do you want me back in Azkaban? Get it off the market!'

The fool gaped at him like a freshly landed fish on dry ground.

'There is no way to pull the contract, Lord Malfoy. By now it's gone through at least five or six stages. It's going to be impossible to find out who is going to execute it before it is done, and we have no idea who has taken out the hit, given it was handled via an elf.' That was Nott's calm and respectful voice.

His eye caught another jerk from Ingersoll, although he did his best to hide it well. However, now was not the time for that, he'd deal with Ingersoll later.

By the ashes of the Dark Lord, what was he supposed to do now?

His cold fingers fumbled for his cane next to his chair. He got to his feet, with slow deliberate movements. Merlin give they didn't notice how heavy he leaned on his cane; he couldn't afford to seem weak in their eyes.

He walked to the Floo, as upright as always. Draco followed him.

As soon as he arrived at Malfoy Manor, he turned around and waited for the arrival of his son. The moment Draco stumbled out of the Floo, he raised his cane and gave him a blow to his head.

Draco's knees gave out below him, and he crashed to the ground, yet still conscious, as his groans betrayed. He cradled his head between his hands.

'You're a fool, Draco Malfoy. You've accepted a contract that will be my death sentence, and you've admitted an Auror into the heart of our organisation.'

The fool raised his eyes to him. 'Who are you talking about, Father?'

'Ingersoll, at least he calls himself that. He served you a fairy tale, you dimwit. That bastard is the spitting image of Dorcas Meadow. Her grandson, probably.' A wave of heat shot through his body; red spots appeared in front of his eyes. His foot kicked Draco right in the groin.

The fool snapped together like a pocket knife.

Lucius looked down at the cringing heap at his feet. The heat of fury faded away, all it left was the bitter taste of bile in his mouth and the certainty he would have to pay the price for Draco's shortsightedness.

'You're such a fool. Each time you discussed your plans with your friends, you blabbed them to an Auror.'

 _t.b.c._


	95. Chapter 92

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author' notes:** Another big THANK YOU to my faithful beta Shygui. I wouldn't know how to do without him. You are the best, my friend!

Chapter **92** only, 12/05/19

* * *

 **92**

 _ **The Rectory, June 2nd 2008**_

The sound of his shoes on the wooden floors seemed to echo like a death bell tolling in a cavernous room. Was today really the day of the start of Daphne's trial? Harry's stomach rolled, his heart beat an erratic rhythm against his ribcage, and he pressed his clammy hands against the sides of his trousers as he sat down at the breakfast table. The scent of Mipsy's delicious food didn't help to calm his anxiety, it only heightened it and made him nauseous. He swallowed hard and looked at his wife. Had she noticed how horrible he felt?

Daphne was pale, even under her carefully applied make-up, and the stony public face she used to hide her strong emotions was already set in place. Despite that, there was a pugnacious gleam in her eyes, reinforced by her selection of clothes for today: plain dark blue business robes over a sharp pant suit with a crisp white blouse, combined with her four inch shiny black high heels, pointed enough to be used as a weapon to kill, if necessary.

The rhythm of his heartbeat evened out somewhat, and a small smile crept on his lips. He'd almost underestimated her for the first time in a long time, Daphne was a fighter, he should have known that, and it was his duty to support her in every way he could. He inhaled and squared his shoulders. He wouldn't be of much use to her if he panicked, he needed to be strong for her, no matter how much he wanted to snatch her up, cradle her to his chest and take her away to a secure place.

He chanced a short glance at Mipsy from under lowered eyelids, praying that Daphne didn't notice, the less she knew about his contingency plan if everything went pear shaped the better for them all. Mipsy stood close to Daphne, as he had instructed her the previous night when Daphne was already sound asleep; the new mum-to-be tired easily these days.

Daphne's short stay in the Ministry's holding cell had come with an interesting piece of information: the Ministry yet had to put up wards against house elf Apparition, as with everyone else in the magical world they didn't give a second thought as to what the small creatures were capable of; Mipsy had told him she'd been free to pop anywhere she liked. His whole plan depended on that fact. Mipsy would stay by Daphne's side, invisible, as a good house elf should be, and if the unthinkable happened and the panel of judges found Daphne guilty, she'd grab her and pop her away to safety.

He shook his head; it was unbelievable that no Death Eater had come up with this easy solution for staging a break out during their trials ten years ago. Then again, they were Death Eaters, and they never would've thought of relying on the help of a lowly elf.

Running away, however, was the option of last resort, if everything else failed. Until then, he would pin his hopes on the rule of law, even if the foundations were still fragile in the reborn magical state. Part of him wanted time to speed up, so their ordeal was over and so that they knew their fate. There were still too many what ifs and unanswered questions for him to have confidence that justice would be served at the end of this ordeal.

The investigation of Ginny's finances was only about half finished, and they were still waiting for the complete autopsy report. On the positive side of the ledger, Greco had found out that Williams' flat belonged to a British company which seemed to be controlled by a company from the U.S.A. Greco's contact in the U.S.A. was still investigating this angle. The preliminary autopsy report had revealed that Ginny's head injury wasn't the cause of her death, frustratingly the real cause had not yet been determined. At least, what they did have would poke another hole in Roper's claim that Daphne had killed Ginny by blasting her into the wall and cracking her skull. There was still hope Ginny had taken an accidental overdose of Pain Killing Potions and died because of that, maybe that death would make it easier to bear for the Weasley family.

The result of the magical DNA analysis of the condom Dean had found in Ginny's dining room also had not yet got back to them. He'd shared that bit of information with Anthony, Greco, and Daphne. They all agreed that Williams most likely had been Ginny's dinner guest, and among the four of them they'd come up with a plan that involved Raymond, Williams, a talk about a pay rise and a water bottle and a glass. Williams had provided them with samples of his fingerprints and his DNA, and it had never occurred to him they had trapped him. If the little love cells in the condom matched with his DNA, the ever-tanned surfer boy had a lot to answer for, he -.

'Harry? Were you listening to what I said?'

Daphne's hand on his arm startled him out of the obsessive chain of thought. He smiled down at his wife and gave her a small peck. 'Sorry, I was woolgathering. What did I miss?'

'We're meeting Anthony in the antechamber of Kingsley's office and go down to the courtroom together with him, aren't we?'

'Yeah, Kingsley offered it the other day, so we don't have to fight our way through the Atrium that probably will be packed with press and wizards and witches ready to tear you apart.'

She bit her lip. 'You don't think the article on Saturday worked?'

'We can only hope that it had some effect,' he said with a sigh. 'McLean did an admirable job, I'm still baffled as to how he persuaded the editor of _Witch_ _Weekly_ to publish a whole edition about the two of us from the day we married until the promotional party.'

Daphne reached for a slice of toast. At his words, a reluctant smile appeared on her lips. 'I'd say it had a lot to do with our friends giving inside statements and providing photos from their private albums.' She put the slice of toast on her plate, but didn't touch it. 'No journalist worth their salt would have skipped an opportunity like that.'

He agreed with a small chuckle, then motioned with his hand towards her plate. 'Please eat something! You'll need your strength today.'

That got him a huff and a small glare. 'Stop fussing, honey. And for the record, you're no better.' She gave a pointed look at his still empty plate and untouched cup of tea.

'I can't, it probably won't stay down.'

'Same here.'

'Mipsy bes packing chocolate digestives for mistress to nibble on if mistress bes faint.' The elf's voice piped up from behind Daphne's chair.

Daphne turned around and gave the small creature a warm smile. 'Thank you, Mipsy, that is very thoughtful of you. Please, prepare some for Master Harry to take with him as well.'

Harry rolled his eyes at her, but didn't object, and when not even a minute later a small package of chocolate digestives appeared beside his plate, he pocketed them without a comment.

They took miniscule sips of tea until it was time to leave. Harry rose and offered Daphne his hand. She took it, her hand as clammy and cold as his, she rose, and they walked to the Floo in the living room. In front of the fireplace they stopped and looked at each other. For the first time that morning there was a flicker of fear in Daphne's eyes.

He pulled her towards him and held her close in an overwhelming need to protect her. The way she clung to him told him everything about her anxiety.

They stood like that for a long moment.

He whispered into her hair, 'Whatever happens, know that I love you and I will be forever at your side.' She clung to him fiercely. Harry eventually asked, 'Are you ready, love?' his heart in his throat, and brushed a strand of her hair out of her face with his fingertips as he released her.

She took a deep breath. 'As ready as I'll ever be.'

He took a handful of Floo Powder and tossed it into the fire. Hand in hand they stepped into the flames and whirled their way through the labyrinth of interconnected fireplaces to the one in the antechamber of Kingsley's office in the Ministry of Magic.

Kingsley was nowhere to be seen - as Minister of Magic he had to keep a neutral stance in public - but Anthony was already waiting for them, together with Dean and Seamus, who were Daphne's Auror guard to make sure she wouldn't escape. They exchanged short greetings, and then Harry and Anthony took Daphne between them and led her to the elevators, while Dean and Seamus brought up the rear.

They met only few people on the first floor who all gave them curious and often enough disdainful looks. That changed, however, as the golden grilles of the elevator clanged opened on level ten.

The corridor in front of the courtrooms was packed with people, reporters from newspapers and magazines from all over the world, sensationalist wizards and witches who all had come in the hope to catch a seat in the trial of the wife of the famous Harry Potter for the murder of the popular Quidditch star Ginny Weasley, and a huge number of curious Ministry employees who all had found an excuse to be here and not at their workplaces.

An uproar went through the crowd as soon as they caught sight of Daphne, and they surged forward forward as a single entity.

Dean and Seamus moved in front of them, wands raised. The no-nonsense look on their faces was enough to make the crazed mob in front of them reconsider their current actions, the mass seemed to flex around them, giving them room to pass.

It didn't, however, silence them, questions rolled out of the mass of people.

'Mrs Potter, why did you -'

'Harry, will you -'

'Mr Goldstein, what tactic will the defence choose to employ today?'

They ignored the questions of the press and walked on. The comments of the wizarding public were harder to ignore.

'Go to hell, bitch!'

'Azkaban is too good for you!'

Harry gritted his teeth. His hand itched to pull his wand and hex the bloody lot into oblivion. Beside him, Daphne trembled, and he put his arm around her shoulder and held her close.

'We believe you, Daphne!'

'Stay strong!'

The supporting voices were few and in-between, and were soon drowned out by the angry voices of the majority. Harry exchanged a short look with his wife. McLean's work had paid off, a small part of the wizarding public had been drawn to Daphne's side. A miniscule smile appeared on Daphne's face, and she raised her hand to thank her few supporters in the room.

Harry let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when they reached a quiet area in front of courtroom ten that had been warded off as a waiting area for Daphne, Anthony, and him, and for the Weasleys and the witnesses Roper had summoned to present her case against Daphne. He exchanged a short nod with McLean, who sat on the wooden bench next to the door of the courtroom and looked as if he'd rather be on the other side of the world right now.

The Weasley clan arrived shortly after them, in time with Justin and Lisa. Molly leaned on Arthur's arm like an old woman and ignored them, while Arthur gave them a nod in greeting. The Weasley children and their spouses, however, gravitated around Daphne and greeted her with hugs, much to the amazement of the crowd behind the wards, as the increasing noise level and the whooshing sound of camera flashes going off betrayed.

Roper and Dawlish were the last to appear. The head of the D.M.L.E. made a grandstanding entrance, sweeping into the room. She didn't even spare them a glance. Instead, she made a big show of greeting Molly and Arthur and fussing over a weeping Molly. The press lapped it up and took photo after photo.

'Propaganda photos for the D.M.L.E. in tomorrow's _Prophet,'_ Anthony said under his breath.

Harry agreed and answered with a curt nod; the palms of his hands were moist, and his heart hammered in his chest. Right now, he couldn't care less about Roper's greed for good press. He stared at the tall doors of the courtroom. What was awaiting them there?

At last, the doors opened and the apprehensive waiting came to an end.

Roper led Molly into the courtroom, and Dawlish followed with Arthur by his side. While Roper had put an arm around Molly in a public gesture of solicitude, and Molly leaned on her heavily, Arthur kept a stiff distance between himself and Dawlish.

Harry let out a deep breath, then offered Daphne his arm. Together with Anthony they entered the courtroom, the Weasley children and their partners along with Justin and Lisa close behind them.

In the courtroom, Roper already had sat down at the prosecutors table and was arranging her parchments. Molly and Arthur had sat down in the front row behind her. Dawlish sat next to Arthur.

Harry escorted Daphne to what was theoretically the dock - instead it was a box reserved for the accused next to Anthony, and opposite Roper's position. He pulled her in his arms, gave her a lingering kiss on the forehead, and then let go and held the chair out for her.

Every eye and camera in the room was on them.

Daphne sat down; Harry bent towards her and whispered, 'I love you,' into her ear. She raised her head and gave him a small smile. 'Love you, too.' The words were almost drowned out by the ruckus in the room.

On his way to the front row behind Daphne's seat his eyes swerved across the courtroom. As expected, the tiers were crammed with press and curious onlookers. If he had his way, the sensationalist scum would be rather disappointed at the end of the trial. He heaved a big sigh; Merlin give Anthony could tear Roper's case apart. Yet, there was still the problem with the panel of judges -.

Lisa and Justin had held a place for him between them in the front row. Behind them, Bill, Fleur, Ron and Hermione had taken their seats. Their support warmed his heart; together, the seven of them formed a small section of resistance against the overwhelming majority in the courtroom who didn't bother to mask their hostility against Daphne.

George and Angelina, Percy and Audrey, and Charlie took the free seats in the first two rows behind the seat of the accused.

Molly Weasley didn't even bother to mask her fury about that, she sent death glares at her five surviving sons, calculated to make them quiver in their shoes. They were unimpressed, instead they folded their arms in front of their chests and glared back.

Harry turned around and looked at Bill behind him. 'Please don't alienate yourself from your parents on Daphne's and my behalf,' he said in a low voice, mindful of the many curious ears close to them.

Bill put a hand on his shoulder and leaned forward. 'Mum went beyond the pale with her accusations against Daphne. Without her idiotic accusations, there wouldn't be a trial today. You know that as well as we do, Harry, so don't even try to find excuses for her. She's in for a rude awakening during this trial, Ginny wasn't an unblemished model of perfection, I know you know exactly what I'm talking about.'

He sighed and nodded; even though the investigation of Zabini's financial background were still ongoing, Bill, Greco and the team of Goblins from Gringotts had found enough evidence to prove that Zabini used his business to laundry money for his mob family. Quite a lot of the money had found its way into Ginny's coffers, and the evidence indicated that she'd known of Zabini's illegal business deals.

Greco had yet to talk to the slippery bastard. Although, after some discussion, they had decided that talking to him outside of the trial might prove unwise, there was no point tipping their hand to the prosecution when they didn't have to. Zabini would expect, however, to be summoned as a witness to the trial, either for the prosecution or for the defense, if only to give testimony about Ginny's last days, he couldn't refuse the summons to appear. Anthony for one was looking forward to confronting him as he sat in the witness box.

The opening of a door at the top of the courtroom yanked Harry out of his thoughts. He stood up with everyone else and watched as the panel of judges filed into the courtroom, once again his heart leapt in his throat and his hands became moist. These were the women and men who held Daphne's and his lives in their hands - and the life of their unborn child. Would they be fair judges who looked at the evidence presented by both sides with an impartial eye? Or would they follow Roper's bidding and send Daphne to Azkaban on the flimsy evidence the D.M.L.E. had arrayed against her? Only time would tell.

He looked at the seven women and men in the judge's bench. Anthony had been relieved when Neville told them the names of the selected judges. It wasn't as bad as they had expected it would be in the beginning.

They had to thank Kingsley for that.

At first, Geoffrey Roper had pulled his strings and pointed out that the members of Daphne's Neutral Faction and those of Harry's Progressive Faction weren't eligible for the panel of judges because of a possible conflict of interest, and had presented the Wizengamot with a list of candidates made up of his supporters. What he hadn't counted on, however, was Kingsley stepping in. Neville had almost choked on his laughter when he described Geoffrey Roper's sour face to them as the Minister for Magic presented his own list of possible candidates to the Wizengamot that contained the names of Ministry employees on the Wizengamot, hand-picked by Kingsley himself.

' _I'm convinced you will not argue the neutrality of the Ministry, ladies and gentlemen,'_ Kingsley had addressed the Wizengamot, that had Geoffrey Roper to adjust his list to make his ploy less obvious. Instead of candidates in his pocket, he'd added a few candidates who, while still conservative Purebloods, were known for their level heads and fair minds, like William Orphington or Gordon Ogden. In the end, only two of Roper's puppets made it on the panel, Zacharias Smith and Cornelius Warrington. On the downside, Kingsley also got only two of his candidates in, Susan Bones and Padma Shafiq, neé Patil. The other three, Orphington, Ogden and Alexander Carmichael, were wild cards.

Harry watched the judges taking their seats. They had elected Susan Bones as presiding judge. That was good, Susan was as incorruptible as her late aunt, she had a spine of steel and wouldn't bow to pressure from Geoffrey Roper's puppets among the judges, nor from the angry masses in the courtroom, she'd make sure that procedure was followed and that Daphne's rights weren't trampled on in the process.

He eyeballed each member of the jury as they sat there waiting for Susan to call the court to session. _'This is much better than I thought it would be in the beginning. Instead of proving Daphne's innocence, we only need to convince one judge that Daphne is innocent to ensure a hung jury,'_ Anthony had said. His explanation had taken them a bit to understand, but essentially from what Harry could grasp a hung jury meant that the judges couldn't get to an unanimous vote. In that case, Anthony had explained, the jury would be disbanded, and the Wizengamot had to vote on the decision if the case presented by the prosecution compared to the case presented by the defense had a high probability to lead to a guilty verdict by another jury. Only if that vote passed, a new jury would be selected for a second trial.

Anthony hoped to draw at least one judge on the side of the defense by showing the many glaring errors and gaps of the prosecution case, so that the necessary Wizengamot vote would end in dismissing another trial. There was a high likelihood of that latter outcome, as together the Neutral Faction, the Progressive Faction and the Light Faction held most of the seats on the Wizengamot.

However, Geoffrey Roper knew that, too. They could only speculate about the means he and his puppets on the panel of judges would use to "persuade" the other judges to follow their lead and hope the other judges would be strong enough to resist that pressure. Harry suppressed a deep sigh, their best bet to get Daphne out of this still was to find the real murderer so that even Geoffrey Roper's puppets had no other choice than a "not guilty" verdict.

He sat down and put his moist hands flat on his thighs. Merlin, how he hated to be reduced to a powerless spectator! He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He needed to get a grip on himself. He was here to show his support for his wife, and to give last-minute instructions via his Patronus to Greco, who was still working with the Goblins today, in case something unexpected came up in Roper's case; this was not the time or place to throw a pity-party for himself.

Susan banged the gavel. 'The trial of Magical Britain against Daphne Isabella Potter is hereby opened.'

Cornelius Warrington gave a slight sneer into her direction. Was he counting on being able to bully her into submission? Well, Susan probably was their most likely bet to resist Warrington's means of "persuasion". She had earned herself the reputation of being as tough as nails, she wouldn't take any bullshit from a Pureblood male with a superiority complex. If Warrington wasn't careful, he'd find himself without essential body parts when he came out of the jury room.

Susan nodded to the clerk in the seat below her. 'Please, read the charges against the accused.'

The clerk stood up and unrolled a sheet of parchment.

His small moment of amusement extinguished, Harry's heart jumped into his throat.

The fight for Daphne's freedom had begun.

 _t.b.c._


	96. Chapter 93

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Sorry for the delay. I've reached the point where I have no written chapters in store anymore, but post as they are finished. On top of that Shygui and I are both rather busy with R.L.. I'll try to give you weekly updates, with "try" being the operative word here. It's more likely you'll get the last ten chapters whenever they are finished.

A heartfelt THANK YOU to my fantastic editor Shygui. He took the time to work his way through this monster of a chapter not only once, but at least three times until he was satisfied with the outcome. Some of the best lines of this chapter are from him. You simply rock, my friend.

Chapter **93** only, 24/05/19

* * *

 **93**

 _ **Ministry of Magic, June 2nd 2008**_

A hush fell over the crowded courtroom as the clerk read the charges against Daphne. When he ended, Susan motioned to Eugenia Roper to present the case of the prosecution.

Roper stood up and gave a respectful bow to the panel of judges. 'Your Honours, during the presentation of our evidence the prosecution will prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that Daphne Potter killed Ginevra Weasley in cold blood, motivated by a bout of petty jealousy. It is to that point that we bring to the court's attention that ten years ago, the accused, in conspiracy with her father, blackmailed her husband, Harry James Potter, also known as the Saviour of the Wizarding World among many appellations, into marrying her. Furthermore, neither the late Cyrus Greengrass, nor the accused herself cared or showed any remorse to this day, that in doing so they trapped the Saviour of the Wizarding world into a loveless existence when he was already deeply in love with the victim. It is also well known that he, Harry James Potter, had planned on proposing in a not too distant future. It is therefore not surprising that his marriage to the accused, a marriage based on such a despicable act, was unhappy and is also childless because of the accused's refusal to bear the children of her husband, even though she knew that a family of his own was all he ever longed for.'

A hot wave of indignation shot through Harry's body. Everything in him screamed to blast the woman through the walls of the courtroom. How did she dare to use their unintentional childlessness against Daphne?

He glanced at his wife; from his vantage point only her rigid back was visible to him. He didn't need to see her face, however, to know that inside she would be hurting. Whenever the matter of their childlessness came up, she lived through the horrible loss of their first baby once again, and the painful years of that slowly diminishing hope of children which had followed. Even though she hid her feelings behind the stony mask she presented to the world, he knew what those words cost her. The need to comfort her became overwhelming, and his hand twitched to reach out for her. He stopped himself, his hand fell limp in his lap; he couldn't reach her, anyway.

Hidden by the folds of his robes, he curled his fingers into fists; his nails dug into his palms, sending a sharp pain up his arm and preventing himself from jumping up and throttling the bitch with his bare hands. Anthony had warned him of any public outburst of anger against Eugenia Roper. _'It's what she's counting on, Harry,'_ he had said. _'You'd seem defiant, which would lend credence to her allegations. Better to ignore her.'_ Still, he couldn't help himself and flashed a glare at Roper.

'However, as we all know, true love cannot be suppressed so easily.' Roper gave Harry a pointed look that also held a great deal of smugness, and each head in the courtroom turned to him.

Harry let out the breath he was holding and his fists uncurled. Damn that bitch, he'd almost fallen into the trap of which Anthony had warned him.

Loud and outraged whispers ran through the courtroom at Roper's words, and she paused, a small smirk around her lips. There was no doubt the uproar her words had caused satisfied her.

Susan banged her gavel. 'Quiet!'

Harry employed the relaxation exercises Daphne had shown him so long ago and schooled his face into a bland mask. At Roper's last words he even sent a faint sneer into her direction and crossed his legs to mimic a relaxed posture.

That didn't faze Roper. 'In point of fact, the lovers refused to be separated, they continued their loving relationship in secret and met at every opportunity they got.' She spun, her robes whirling around her. 'That woman -' she pointed a bony index finger with a long, red-painted and pointed fingernail at Daphne, '- that woman, supported by her father, refused to give the Saviour of the Wizarding world the freedom he so obviously longed for and deserved. But that is not where things ended. Cyrus Greengrass died two years ago, and our Saviour was no longer beholden to the promise Cyrus Greengrass had blackmailed out of him. The lovers waited until Ginevra Weasley's contract with her team in the U.S.A. came to an end, then Ginevra Weasley moved back to their home country and into the ancestral Potter family seat. Our Saviour informed his wife he wanted a divorce to marry his true love. Daphne Potter, however, wasn't one who was inclined to let go of what she considered hers. Instead, she plotted a despicable deed and murdered Ginevra Weasley by the use of a Blasting Hex, slamming our Saviour's love into the wall, extinguishing her life, all to keep her grasp and control of our Saviour.'

She paused for effect, left the box of the prosecution and walked towards a small table next to the seat of the court clerk where the pieces of evidence the prosecution would present were laid out.

Justin bent his head towards Harry. 'She's laying it on rather thick, isn't she? I would have thought you are the last man in the world to be blackmailed by anyone, least of all Cyrus. That man loved you like his own flesh and blood, anyone with eyes could see that. Besides, it was obvious right from the beginning that Daphne adored you, and you fell for her hard and fast, too.'

Harry jolted, he hadn't been close friends with Justin and Lisa when the events that led to his and Daphne's marriage occurred, and even though their friends were aware they had an arranged marriage, they'd never talked about that later. Their friends would be in for some nasty surprises during this trial. He acknowledged Justin's words with a faint smile while his eyes followed Roper.

Roper picked up a sheet of parchment from the table and held it up. 'Your Honors, the prosecution submits piece of evidence number P one: the rental contract between one Harry Potter and one Ginevra Weasley. For the record, I would like it noted that The Saviour of the Wizarding World is the owner of _Stinchcombe Hall_ in Kent, the ancestral seat of the Potter family. The house has been featured in many newspaper articles and is a landmark of magical Britain as well as of the United Kingdom: a house fit for the Queen of England. Houses like this are rented out for at least seventy-thousand Muggle pounds, which amounts to about seven hundred Galleons, _per week.'_

A gasp went through the courtroom at the outrageous weekly rent that was much more than most wizards made in a year.

Roper tapped against the contract with one immaculately manicured fingernail. 'The Saviour of Magical Britain, however, wanted to provide for his love even better than for his wife. Well aware he had to at least have some official documentation he made a rental contract to throw his wife off scent. He went through the motions, but charged only the modest sum of _seven_ Galleons a weekfrom Ginevra Weasley. You can imagine what impact that had on Daphne Potter when she found out.'

Harry blinked. Wait. What? This was the largest load of Gryffin shit he'd ever heard! There was no way the Goblins of Gringotts' real estate department who managed _Stinchcombe Hall_ for him and Daphne would have rented out the house for such a paltry sum - or that they would have agreed to that. Ginny might have been his girlfriend a long time ago, but if she wanted to live like a queen, she'd have to pay for that privilege. The upkeep of that nightmare of a house cost them a fortune each year, much more than they made with renting out the draughty barn. At least that was what Daphne said, she would know, after all she was the one who managed their private holdings.

Anthony bent towards Daphne and asked her something in a low voice. Daphne shook her head and replied in an equally low voice, and Anthony cleared his throat and stood up just as Roper put the contract back on the table and was about to pick up the next piece of evidence.

'The defense has questions pertaining to the rental contract.'

That got him a glare from Roper, however, any objections she might have raised were cut off by Susan.

'Go ahead, Mr Goldstein.'

Anthony looked at Roper. 'Did Mr Potter sign the contract himself?'

Roper picked up the contract once again and looked at the signature at the bottom of the contract and shook her head. 'No, he didn't.'

'Who signed the contract?'

The glare Roper gave Anthony could have turned stone into lava. 'Someone named Axeclaw,' she gritted out between clenched teeth.

Anthony wasn't deterred by that. 'Did Axeclaw sign the contract in his own name?'

'No, he signed as representative of Mr Potter.'

'And?' Anthony pushed again.

'And Mrs Potter,' Roper ground out.

Anthony turned back to Susan. 'Your Honour, the defence knows that the rent shown in this contract -' he motioned to the piece of parchment in Roper's hand, '- is not the rent the parties the contract applies to have agreed on. For that reason the defence asks to hear Axeclaw to find out if really a rent of seven Galleons a week has been negotiated between Mr Potter and Ms Weasley, as the prosecution claims.'

'Objection!' Roper shouted. She also turned to Susan. 'Your Honour, this will prolong the trial unnecessarily. The defence doesn't have a leg to stand on with this inane questioning regarding the presented contract, they only want to confuse the panel of judges with false claims and further obfuscate the truth.'

'Objection overruled,' Susan said. Her bland face didn't give her thoughts away. 'I don't believe that there is something like "unnecessarily prolonging" when it comes to finding out the truth in a criminal trial that has the potential to send someone to Azkaban for life in case of a guilty verdict, Madam Roper.' She gave a nod to the clerk. 'Please, send out a Patronus and summon Axeclaw to give his testimony.'

A second later a silvery dove flew through the courtroom, and not even five minutes later the doors opened and a vaguely familiar wizened Goblin in a three-piece-suit of finest wool and sporting one of the thickest fob chains Harry had ever seen marched into the room. He stopped in front of Susan.

'Axeclaw. What do you want, witch?' His voice was as deep and rough as the bark of a German shepherd dog.

If Susan was irritated by Axclaw's attitude, she didn't let on. 'You've been summoned to this trial to give evidence about the rent you negotiated for your client, Mr Harry Potter, with Ms Ginevra Weasley for _Stinchcombe Hall._ Please, take a seat in the witness box.'

Axeclaw grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, but did as he was asked.

Susan nodded to Anthony. 'Your witness, Mr Goldstein.'

Anthony gave the Goblin a polite nod in greeting. 'Axeclaw, in which way are you connected to Mr Potter?'

'I manage Mr Potter's private real estate.'

'In that line of work you are also responsible for negotiations with possible clients?'

'Yes, I am.'

'Were you responsible for the negotiations with one Ms Ginevra Weasley relating to _Stinchcombe Hall?'_

'Yes.'

'How were the instructions Mr Potter gave you in regard to the amount of rent he demanded from Ms Weasley?'

'I never talked to Mr Potter about that.'

Indignant murmurs flared up in the courtroom and died down the moment Susan glared at the audience.

Anthony's brows shot up. 'Excuse me, Axeclaw, are you trying to tell me that you went into negotiations with Ms Weasley without even asking your client about something as important as the amount of rent?'

'Of course not, wizard. Gringotts doesn't deliver sloppy work.'

'Then, with whom did you talk about these matters?'

Harry leaned back in his seat and bit on the insides of his cheeks to prevent a huge grin from sprawling over his face. Eugenia Roper was in for the first nasty surprise of the trial.

'I talked to Mrs Potter about the main stipulations of the next contract.'

This time Susan had to employ her gavel several times before the courtroom quietened down.

'Isn't that rather unusual?' Anthony asked.

Axeclaw shook his head. 'For the Potters, no. They have a clear division of tasks when it comes to their estates, as I know from talks to my colleagues who are also dealing with the Potter and Greengrass estates. Mr Potter manages Crystal Fairy Beauty Products, regardless whether Mrs Potter's share of the company is also affected, and without having to ask for her consent, while Mrs Potter manages their private holdings on her own authority, regardless whether they belong to her personally or to Mr Potter.'

'When did you talk to Mrs Potter about the amount of rent to charge for _Stinchcombe Hall?'_

'That would have been at the beginning of the year. Mrs Potter and I usually meet once a year to evaluate the amount of rents and discuss any changes to conditions and what repairs are needed at various properties.'

'Did you inform Mr Potter or Mrs Potter about the negotiations with Ms Weasley?'

Axeclaw looked offended. 'Of course not. The Potters don't want to be bothered with such trifles. They are informed about new tenants in my monthly reports, which are sent directly to Mrs Potter. The information about the contract with Ms Weasley is included in my report for May, which is due in another week.'

'Did Mrs Potter tell you to charge a rent of seven Galleons per week for _Stinchcombe Hall_?'

A visible jolt went through the Goblin, and he was near growling when he responded, 'Of course not. Mrs Potter knows what she is doing, her knowledge of business matters is exceptional for a wand-wielder. She never would have agreed to throwing away a gem like _Stinchcombe Hall_ for a paltry sum that doesn't even cover the Council Tax her husband has to pay for that place each year.'

Anthony permitted himself a small smile. 'I thought as much. What stipulations regarding the rent of _Stinchcombe Hall_ did Mrs Potter set in place?'

The goblin gave a predatory grin. 'Simply to get as much rent as possible, but a minimum of six hundred Galleons a week. I am sure that she would have been happy that I managed to get Ms Weasley to agree to a rent of seven hundred Galleons per week.'

Again, the questioning was interrupted by the loud murmurings of the spectators.

Anthony waited until the noise had quietened down, walked over to the small table that held the pieces of evidence, picked up the contract and held it up.

'Then tell me, Axeclaw, why did you put a rent of only _seven_ Galleons _per year_ into the contract?'

The Goblin gasped. He pointed towards the contract. 'If I may?'

Anthony held the contract out to him; Axeclaw almost snatched it out of his hands, his eyes skimming across it as he read the contract, then inexplicably he raised it to his nose and sniffed the parchment. His eyes contracted into flinty hard orbs, he shot bolt upright in his seat and waved his hand over the parchment.

The parchment glowed red.

'What are you doing there?' Roper screeched 'Your honors the defence's witness is tampering with evidence!'

Before Susan could answer Roper, Axeclaw turned to her, his face as red as the parchment, and his teeth bared. 'Shut up, witch! I am tampering with nothing, I simply evoked the Goblin Security Magic, magic we put on every contract made by us, so that we can detect tampering. This contract -' he waved the contract in his hand at her, his face contorted with disgust '- has been manipulated after it has been signed by Ms Weasley and me.'

'What?' a voice in the audience shouted, followed by a medley of wizards and witches who also uttered their disbelief in varying degrees of politeness.

'Quiet!' Susan shouted and banged her gavel. It took a number of repeats until order was restored. She glared at the offenders. 'The next member of the gallery who decides that they have a right to have their voice heard by all and sundry will be removed from the courtroom and held in contempt!'

'Is it possible to find out who manipulated the contract, Axeclaw?' Anthony asked into the tense silence that followed Susan's threat.

The Goblin waved his hand over the parchment once more. Nothing happened, and he shook his head. 'Whoever did this masked their magical signature very well, however, with considerable effort and expense we might be able to determine who it was, the emphasis on might!.'

'Thank you for your time, Axeclaw,' Anthony said. 'I don't have any more questions.' He turned to Roper and made a sweeping gesture at the goblin. 'Your witness, Madam Roper.'

Roper looked as if she had swallowed a toad. 'I don't have any more questions, either, your honor.'

Susan also thanked Axeclaw for his time and then dismissed the witness.

Harry let out a pent up breath. There was no doubt that this exchange had gone to the defence. For the first time that morning something like hope glowed in ashes that was his chest. If Anthony continued like that, if Roper made another blunder… If the panel of judges did the job they'd been elected for right…

He scrutinised the seven judges on their bench. It all came down to them. How had they taken the dismantling of Roper's first piece of evidence?

It was hard to tell; Orphington, Ogden, and Carmichael all had neutral expressions that didn't give their thoughts away at all, a similar expression also adorned Susan Bones' face, although her handling of the trial so far confirmed their expectation that she was at least determined to give Daphne a fair trial.

Zacharias Smith dozed in his seat; had he even noticed anything that had happened in the last twenty minutes?

Warrington, on the other hand, glared at Anthony who had his back turned to the panel of judges while he had a quiet conference with Daphne during the small break in proceedings before Susan asked Roper to continue her case. Oh well, they'd known right from the beginning that he was likely doing Geoffrey Roper's bidding. However, if Anthony kept on like this, Warrington's task would be considerably more difficult.

As his eyes met Padma's, she gave an imperceptible eyeroll at Eugenia Roper. The embers in his heart became brighter again. Padma, at least, seemed to see through Roper's shenanigans. However, would she be strong enough to stay true to her own convictions in the face of the pressure Cornelius Warrington would likely throw her way, backed by Zacharias Smith. Without any shadow of a doubt they would subject her and her co-judges to subtle and probably not-so-subtle intimidation as soon as the door to the judge's room closed behind them.

Susan's voice yanked him out of his thoughts. 'Please continue, Madam Roper.'

Roper gave a miniscule start and shifted through her papers once again.'Yes, of course, Your Honour.' She gave a fleeting glance to the table that held the prosecution's pieces of evidence. There was another sheet of parchment, the logo of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products visible at the top even from Harry's place.

Harry furrowed his brows. That sheet of parchment looked like one of their employment contracts for the magical part of the company. What was Roper scheming now?

For a moment, it looked as if Roper was about to pick up the parchment and introduce it to the trial. Her hand stopped, however, at the sound of a cleared throat and a slight warning shake of the head from Geoffrey Roper who sat in the second row right behind Dawlish. Harry watched, his narrowed eyes flicking between the two Roper siblings, as she overtly changed tact and turned towards McLean.

Harry's stomach lurched and he almost let out a whistle. Had Roper somehow got hold of Ginny's contract and planned on using a similar line of reasoning like she'd used with the rental contract to make it appear he had set up Ginny as his mistress? He wouldn't have put it past her, especially since her brother obviously was in on the scheme, too, going by the short exchange they'd had. There was very little Geoffrey Roper wouldn't do if it helped him achieve his goals.

Well, it seemed Anthony and Axeclaw had spoiled his plans - at least this time. However, it was a clear reminder they had to watch each of their steps and be prepared for anything.

Roper seemed to have come to a decision. She bit her lower lip and then squared her shoulders. 'The prosecution calls Mr. Angus McLean into the witness box.'

McLean stood up and walked to the witness box. He was pale, and there was a faint gleam of sweat on his face. He sat down; Susan cautioned him about his duties as a witness and then motioned to Roper to begin the questioning.

'Mr McLean, you work for Crystal Fairy Beauty Products, the company that is owned by the accused?'

'Objection,' Anthony said. 'It is a well known and indisputable fact that Mrs Potter only owns only half of the company, Your Honour.'

Roper acknowledged Anthony's objection with a slight inclination of her head in his direction and narrowed hate-filled eyes. 'Let me rephrase my question then. Mr McLean, you work for Crystal Fairy Beauty Products, the company that is _co_ _-owned_ by the accused?'

'Yes, I do,' McLean said.

'Will you please outline your field of duty to the court, Mr McLean?'

McLean relaxed in his seat, it was obvious he felt on safe ground again. 'I am the director of the Department of Magical Public Relations and Advertisement. As such, I have to coordinate between the management and the international press and to plan and supervise the advertisement campaigns of the company, in close cooperation with the management.'

'What was the last advertisement campaign the company ran?'

'That would have been the campaign focussing on Ginny Weasley as the new face of the company,' McLean said with a mournful sigh.

'Did you discuss the recruitment of Ms Weasley with the management?'

'Of course I did. My deputy and I had a conference about that with the Potters on Monday, the eleventh of May.'

'How did the accused react to the recruitment of Ms Weasley?'

'She seemed to be surprised.'

'In a pleasant way?'

'N… no, I wouldn't say that.'

Roper bent forward and slammed her flat hand on the narrow top that covered the baluster around the witness box. 'How was her reaction then, Mr McLean?'

'She looked shocked.'

Roper whirled around to the judge's table. 'She looked shocked. Well, any woman would be shocked if she found out her husband just hired his mistress for the company she owned, wouldn't she?' She walked to the evidence table, picked up a photo and held it up for the judges to see. 'The prosecution introduces piece of evidence number P two: a picture of the husband of the accused and the later victim dancing together at the Veterans Ball. The husband of the accused ditched his wife in order to dance the third dance of the ball, the dance that traditionally is reserved for married couples, with his mistress, thus humiliating the accused in public. This was two days before he hired the later victim.'

Murmurs flared up in the courtroom and died down as Anthony shot to his feet. 'Objection. This is mere speculation on part of the prosecution.'

'Objection sustained!' Susan said. 'Please, refrain from further speculative comments like this, Madam Roper.'

'Of course, your honour.' Roper's voice sounded meek, yet, she had made her point and couldn't suppress a small smile of triumph as she looked at Anthony over her shoulder.

She turned back to McLean. 'Isn't it true that the advertisement campaign you had planned on for your company included a big promotional party?'

'Yes, that's true.'

'Where did that event take place?'

'At _The Rectory.'_

Roper's eyebrows shot up at that. ' _The Rectory._ Isn't that the Potter's private residence?'

'Yes, it is.'

'Isn't it unusual that the Potters use their private residence for a promotional event?'

McLean shook his head. 'I wouldn't say so, no. It's a common practice for them at least with regards to the Muggle part of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products. In fact it's somewhat a tradition since the time of our founders to hold promotional events at _The Rectory._ That's what inspired the idea of this party.'

Roper scowled. Apparently she didn't like McLean's answer and had done very little research into their companies promotional activities, in fact it was highly likely that she hadn't taken any notice of the Muggle part of the business at all. However, her face was calm again the next second. 'Were the preparations for the promotional party also part of your job?'

'No, that was done by Mrs Potter.'

A predatory gleam appeared in Roper's eyes. 'How did Mrs Potter take the news she had to prepare a party in celebration of the ex-girlfriend and, according to the press, supposed mistress of her husband?'

McLean shot Daphne a miserable side glance. 'She seemed shocked. She broke the quill she held in her hand.'

'Thank you, Mr McLean,' Roper walked back to her seat. 'Your witness,' she said over her shoulder with a triumphant smile at Anthony.

Anthony got up and walked to the witness box.

'Mr McLean, you already outlined for the benefit of the court your field of duty at Crystal Fairy Beauty Products. Part of it is the development and supervision of advertisement campaigns, in cooperation with the management. Will you, please, outline how this process is conducted at Crystal Fairy Beauty Products?'

McLean leaned back in his seat. 'Well, there's an annual meeting of the board of directors with Mrs and Mr Potter. We evaluate the current state of the company, and then Mr Potter outlines his and Mrs Potter's goals for the short, mid and long-term futures of the company. Then we'll have a general discussion about that afterwards, identifying milestones and other things that will help us meet those goals. At this point we discuss the proposed budgets and we usually get a final decision on each departments operational budget for the year which obviously includes my department. During my presentation we also make any decisions about any new advertising campaigns, if we deem them necessary.'

Anthony rose an eyebrow. 'We? I thought Mr Potter runs the company?'

'He makes the final decision and bears the responsibility, together with his wife as the co-owner. However, Mr Potter will always listen to the opinions of the experts in the company and base his decision on that. Mrs Potter is of course part of all of those high-level discussions.'

'Ah, I see. So, the decision for the advertisement campaign with Ms Weasley was already made a year ago?'

'That's not quite right,' McLean said. 'We decided on a new campaign, yes. But then it was up to my staff and me to come up with ideas for that. We developed about five different ideas, I think, and presented them to the Potters and the director of finances some time in March. They discussed the pros and cons of each suggestion, especially the costs, and finally agreed on the advertisement campaign that used celebrities of the magical world as models.'

'Thank you for clarifying that point, Mr McLean,' Anthony said with a nod. 'So, it wasn't Mr Potter alone who decided on that special campaign. Did he select and contract Ms Weasley as the new face of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products?'

McLean permitted himself a small laugh. 'Mr Potter is a very busy man. He makes the major decisions, but he leaves it up to the directors of the departments of the company to carry them out. No, the selection of the model for the proposed campaign was part of my job, along with the negotiations and the signing of the final contract.'

Anthony started and gaped at McLean. 'Did I get that right? Are you telling me _you_ picked out Ginevra Weasley, and _you_ signed the contract with Ms Weasley on behalf of Crystal Fairy?'

Harry bit on the insides of his cheeks. Anthony had questioned him and Daphne for each detail about Ginny's contract, and he knew that McLean had selected the model and signed the contract. How long had Anthony practised this little speech in front of his bedroom mirror until he managed to pull off that convincing show of a surprised man?

'That's correct, I signed the contract with Ms Weasley,' McLean said.

'When was that?'

McLean scrunched up his nose. 'I don't remember the actual date anymore, it's on the contract of course. In any case, it was before my deputy and I had the conference with the Potters about our progress with the campaign.'

'Did Mr Potter know about the contract you signed with Ms Weasley in the name of the company before that meeting with him and Mrs Potter?'

'No, he didn't. That was the point of that meeting to inform him and Mrs Potter about the contract,' McLean said with a shake of his head.

Loud murmurs broke out in the courtroom at that unexpected revelation, and Susan had to employ her gavel again to restore order.

Anthony waited until the noise died down. 'We know already how Mrs Potter reacted to the recruitment of Ms Weasley and the news she had to prepare a party in her honour. However, how did Mr Potter react to your news?'

'I'd say, just as I had expected to the first one. My deputy and I were rather satisfied we had managed to struck a bargain with an A-class celebrity and sports star like Ms Weasley. Mr Potter, however, is not as easily excited, like his late father-in-law he's got a level head on his shoulders. If my memory doesn't deceive me, he said something like he'd reserve his judgement on whether the deal was good for our company until he had heard all the details of the contract.'

'Level headed, indeed,' Anthony said with a small grin. 'And how did Mr Potter react to the name of the party involved?'

'He was even more shocked than his wife.'

Again, the noise level in the courtroom shot up until Susan banged the gavel repeatedly.

'What makes you think so?' Anthony asked as soon as order was restored.

'Well, it was rather obvious. When my deputy mentioned the party, Mr Potter sat bolt upright in his seat and asked him if he was kidding. He looked utterly shocked. I've never before seen Mr Potter lose his cool demeanor in a meeting, he's as cold blooded as a fish when it comes to tough decisions, always weighing up the pros and the cons.'

This caused another round of comments among the spectators that faded out at the stern glare from Susan.

'What happened then?'

'Mr Potter was against the party. He mentioned the article about him and Ms Weasley in the _Sunday Prophet,_ and how that article had upset Mrs Potter, and he said he wasn't inclined to put her into such a situation once again. I've never seen him that furious, I thought he was going to pull out his wand and blow my head off.'

Soft chuckles ran through the room, intermingled with surprised comments.

'Thankfully it didn't come to that, and since the party took place, Mr Potter obviously changed his mind. How did that come to pass?' Anthony asked in a dry tone.

'Well, the credit for that belongs to Mrs Potter. She calmed him down in a jiffy. I have no idea what she said to him, because she cast a Privacy Ward, but he listened to her and her words obviously made him think. In the end, he agreed albeit reluctantly, and we went on with our agenda.'

'It's obvious Mrs Potter already schemed to kill Ms Weasley. She goaded her husband into agreeing to the party so she could get easy access to the victim,' Roper called from her place.

Anthony whirled around to the judge's table. 'Your Honour, I protest the interference of the prosecution with the defences' right to question the witness. Again, the interjection of the prosecution is nothing, but speculation and aspersions about the defendant that are completely unjustified and aimed to leading the honourable judges to inaccurate assumptions.'

Susan glared at Roper. 'Madam Roper, please refrain from undue attempts to influence the court. It doesn't cast a favourable light on the case of the prosecution.'

Roper looked as if she was about to give a hot reply, but reined in her anger as her brother cleared his throat again.

His point made, Anthony looked up at Susan. 'Your Honour, the defence thinks it of utmost importance to counteract the wrong impression the prosecution tried to create with that undue remark immediately. We ask for permission to introduce a witness to counteract the supposition of the prosecution.'

'Objection!' Roper shot to her feet. 'Your Honour, this is completely unnecessary and another attempt of the defence to distance themselves from the truth.'

Susan gave her a blank stare. 'Madam Roper, I think I already made myself clear that I won't tolerate your attempts to influence the panel of judges with undue statements in a case where I am elected presiding judge and duty bound to make sure the rights of the accused of a fair trial are observed. Objection overruled!' She banged her gavel. 'Please, call your witness, Mr Goldstein.'

Anthony thanked her with a small bow. He straightened and said, 'The defence calls Mr Harry Potter.'

The courtroom fell dead silent.

Harry stood up, the all of a sudden sweaty palms of his hands pressed against the side of his robes in an unobtrusive attempt to dry them, and walked to the witness box, passing McLean as he exited the same box and headed back towards his seat .

Harry sat down; Susan cautioned him about his rights as the husband of the accused.

'I want to give testimony,' he answered her question.

Anthony stepped in front of him. 'Mr Potter, you heard what Mr McLean said. I think I speak for everyone in this room when I say we'd like to hear your point of view, especially what caused you to change your opinion about the promotional party being held at your home.'

The wave of murmurs rolling through the courtroom lend credence to his words.

'Quiet,' Susan said.

Every eye in the room was on him. Harry took a deep breath. 'The _Sunday Prophet_ had blown what happened at Veterans Ball out of proportion and garnished everything with wrong and lurid speculations about the alleged relationship I had with Ginny. While Daphne never said a word, I could tell it was getting at her. I'd just returned from the Continent on the day of the ball, and even though my wife denied it, it was plain to me she wasn't feeling well. I wanted to spare her another round of sensationalist and wrong newspaper articles, so I objected to the plan when Patterson brought it up.'

He gave a rueful chuckle. 'Truth be told, I was livid, as Director McLean already said. Daphne, however, forced me to employ common sense. She correctly pointed out that the contract was beneficial for the company: we'd hardly find another A-list celebrity or sports star of Ginny's calibre, and the negotiated fee was reasonable. My late father-in-law tutored me as his successor, and he taught me to put the demands of the company before my personal comfort or the comfort of my family. Daphne's intervention reminded me of that. She also pointed out that the party was for the benefit of the company and that there was no reason for treating Ginny differently to any other model that we have under contract for the Muggle part of the company. It would have given her a power we both were loath to give her. So I agreed, even though I still didn't like it one bit.'

The drop of a pin could have been heard while he talked, when he ended, however, the spectators at once commented to their neighbours on his testimony, and it took repeated calls of order from Susan to quieten them down.

Anthony made a sweeping gesture towards Roper. 'Your witness.'

Roper stood up and walked up to Harry. 'That surely was a touching tale of husbandly concern, Mr Potter. However, how much of it is true, given the constant reports that your wife is holding you under Love Potions, reports which have existed right from the beginning of your marriage?'

Harry almost rolled his eyes at her. Was Roper really dumb enough to believe what the _Prophet_ printed as news? It seemed so, or she was fishing in the dark, which was rather unprofessional of her, albeit not surprising from what he'd seen of this trial so far. Thank Merlin for little blessings!

He gave Roper his best devil-may-care-smile, a smile he'd trained himself to give in memory of Sirius and that never failed to "knock foolish witches out of their high heels," as his wife had remarked, rather sourly, on more than one occasion. 'I wondered if those unsubstantiated claims might rear their ugly heads, Madam Roper, so I am prepared to counteract your claims.' He stuck his hand into the inner pocket of his robes and pulled out a roll of parchment with the seal of the _Hotel Dieu Magique_ attached to it. 'This is a medical certificate from my healer of choice, I have continued seeing him every other month as a precaution after I overcame the condition that was diagnosed prior to my marriage to my beloved,' he stated, twisting the knife as best he could into the bitches assertions. 'It states that I have never been under the influence of any undue substances or curses, since I commenced seeing him.'

Roper blinked at him for long seconds, but made no attempt to take the roll of parchment he held out to her.

For the third time that day Harry bit on the insides of his cheeks. Who would have thought that Roper, of all ugly hags in the world, was no exception to the loads of silly girls fawning over him?

Anthony stepped beside her. 'With your permission, Madam Roper,' he said and took the certificate out of Harry's hand to give it to the clerk. 'The defence introduces the medical certificate of Healer Petite, a member of staff of the _Hotel Dieu Magique_ and a world-wide renowned expert on rare potions, as piece of evidence D one to the trial.'

'Any more questions, Madam Roper?' Susan asked.

Roper shook her head, still a bedazzled expression on her face.

'You may return to your seat, Mr Potter,' Susan said.

Harry stood up and walked to his place in the front row. His gaze locked with Daphne's. She gave him a small smile and an imperceptible shake of her head, the words "What am I going to do with you?" written all over her face. He winked at her, but made sure to school his face into a bland mask once again when he sat down, even if others had seen it, it wouldn't do to have Roper thinking he was toying with her.

Roper shifted through her papers, cleared her throat, and looked up. 'The prosecution is calling Deputy Head Auror Dawlish.'

Dawlish stood up and went to the witness box, an arrogant expression on his face.

Harry's stomach gave a hard lurch and bile rose into his throat, which he swallowed down hard. There was no doubt the idiot was looking forward to his big moment at court. His hands curled into fists by his side. If he'd got five minutes only with Dawlish, the self-confident sneer would be wiped off his face once and for all. He exhaled a pent-up breath; it wouldn't do to get all worked-up before Dawlish even had opened his mouth, Anthony would know how to deal with him.

'Deputy Head Auror Dawlish, please tell us what you discovered when you arrived at the crime scene on the morning of the nineteenth of May.'

Dawlish crossed his legs and steepled his fingers in an impersonation of thought, as though he were trying hard to remember the exact circumstances.

Harry gave an inward snort. As if the git hadn't rehearsed his testimony at least a half a dozen times already.

'The Auror department had been alerted by Mr Harry Potter that the dead body of Ginevra Weasley had been found at his house. I went over by Floo, the head house elf led me to Ms Weasley's bedroom, the master bedroom of the house, as I had been informed. I found the victim crumpled to the floor, her back leaned against the wall next to the head of the bed. The bedsheets had been torn from the bed and the lamp on the bedside table had toppled over. There was blood on the back of Ms Weasley's head, and a matching bloodstain on the wall. From the way I found the victim it was obvious she'd been blasted into the wall by a Blasting Curse. The impact cracked her skull, and she died a short time later because of the severe injury.'

'Thank you, Deputy Head Auror Dawlish,' Roper said. 'No more questions.'

Susan motioned to Anthony. He stood up, a thin folder in his hand.

'Deputy Head Auror Dawlish, do you know what this is?' He held the folder up for Dawlish to see.

'I have no idea,' Dawlish replied in a bored voice.

'I thought as much.' Anthony's mutter was loud enough for all to hear and Dawlish bristled at the connotation. Anthony ignored him, turning his attention back to the court and held the folder up for the judges and anyone else in the room to see. 'These are the guidelines for Auror investigations. Chapter three of these guidelines deals with the investigations of homicides. Nine years ago these guidelines were developed by a team that consisted of members of the Auror Department, members of the D.M.L.E., members of the Wizengamot and defence lawyers. These guidelines were ratified by the Wizengamot less than a year after they were presented to our ruling body and have been the standard operating procedure in the Auror Department ever since then.'

He paused to let his words sink in. 'Basically, these guidelines are the rules that dictate the work of the Auror Department in a homicide investigation among other things. You, _Deputy Head Auror_ Dawlish, just admitted you have no idea of the rules you have to observe while doing your job.'

Heat shot into Dawlish' face, and he opened his mouth.

Anthony gave him no time for that. 'Tell me, _Deputy Head Auror_ Dawlish, who is the first person to set a foot at the crime scene and examine the victim?'

'Er…'

'You seem to be struggling with that so I'll help you out, it's an Unspeakable trained in forensics; the Department of Mysteries developed a new department dedicated to support the Aurors after the war. Tell me, _Deputy Head Auror_ Dawlish, did you ask an Unspeakable to investigate the crime scene?'

'Er…'

'You don't have to answer that; your report about your findings at the crime scene makes it pretty obvious that you didn't.' Anthony jabbed his index finger at Dawlish. 'You, _Deputy Head Auror_ Dawlish, decided that you knew better than the Wizengamot and blatantly disregarded the very conventions of magical crime scene investigations!' His voice rolled like thunder through the courtroom.

A deafening silence followed, then the whispers set in, while the many reporters in the room scribbled down their notes, a look of delight on their faces as if Christmas had come early.

Harry cast a look at the judge's table. Orphington, Ogden, and Carmichael had sat up straight, deep frowns on their faces. Warrington, on the other hand, cringed as if someone had kicked him into the groin.

Now, that was strange, didn't Geoffrey Roper's puppets know on what flimsy grounds the claims of the prosecution stood? It was Anthony's main strategy to point out the many mistakes of the Auror Department and make the judges as well as the public realise that Daphne was the victim of arbitrary justice and very circumstantial evidence.

He let his eyes wander to Geoffrey Roper. In true Pureblood fashion, he was unmoved on the outside, albeit the look he cast at the back of his sister's head didn't bode well for her. Glee welled up in Harry, warm and satisfying. He wished the bitch all the worst. Come to think of it, Geoffrey Roper too. He had launched his sister into a position of power during the still dark times after the war, in the full knowledge that Eugenia Roper had no formal training for the job she was expected to do. Not that she had done herself any favours, she hadn't made any effort to learn the ropes of her trade during the last eight years. In true Pureblood fashion she had delegated the real work to her subordinates and had only appeared in public to take credit. Well, it seemed it all finally came back to bite the Ropers into their arses.

Anthony wasn't finished yet, he turned to the judge's table, his finger pointed at the witness box. ' _Deputy Head Auror_ Dawlish was so confident he knew best that his blatant disregard of the law is well documented in the case file. The defence will prove that the glaring mistakes he made led to the wrongful accusation of the defendant, while the real murderer of Ginny Weasley is still out there.'

This caused Orphington, Ogden, and Carmichael to put their heads together and hold a whispered conversation behind a Privacy Ward.

Anthony turned back to the witness and stalked towards him. 'Isn't it true, _Deputy Head Auror_ Dawlish, that you told the team of Aurors that came with you, each member highly trained in crime scene investigations, to stand down and cool their heels in the entrance hall? Isn't it true, _Deputy Head Auror_ Dawlish, that you kicked the Unspeakable who slipped into the victim's bedroom behind your back _to do his job and abide by the very stipulation within the Auror training manual_ out of the room? Isn't it true, _Deputy Head Auror_ Dawlish, that you forbade moving the victim's body to the morgue in the Department of Mysteries for the Unspeakables to conduct a magical autopsy on the body to determine the cause of death?' Anthony's questions battered down on Dawlish like steel hammers.

Red spots appeared on Dawlish' cheeks, and he recoiled in his seat. At the last question, however, he straightened and glared at Anthony. 'That wasn't necessary, it was obvious she'd died of a Blasting Hex!'

Anthony's eyebrows shot up at that. 'Oh, so you have abilities we don't know of yet that you can tell the cause of death by just one look on the body?'

The red spots on Dawlish' face intensified. 'Young man, I was already working as an Auror while you were still in your nappies. Don't you dare go doubting my judgement.'

'Oh, I'll do more than just doubt your abilities, _Deputy Head Auror_.' Anthony stepped to the witness box, grabbed the balustrade with both hands and leaned forward until his nose almost touched Dawlish'. 'I'll quite happily tell the court that I think your bumbling disregard for protocol patently hindered the capture of the real perpetrator.'

Anthony leaned back and look disgustedly at the man in front of him, 'You've done nothing to keep up with the developments of your profession, _Deputy Head Auror_ Dawlish. In your ignorance you overlooked vital pieces of evidence. Tell me, how can it be that you failed to investigate the other rooms of the house?'

A new round of murmurs ran through the courtroom at that.

'It wasn't necessary, the crime took place in the bedroom.' Dawlish' defence sounded as feeble as it was.

'Did it never occur to you that an investigation of the other rooms might come up with evidence that Ginny Weasley was still alive after Mrs Potter left?' Anthony regarded Dawlish with a disbelieving shake of his head, then turned to the judge's table once again. 'The case of the defence will prove just that. Ginny Weasley was still alive when the defendant left and wasn't killed before early in the next morning.'

That statement caused an uproar in the courtroom, and Susan had to employ her gavel once again.

Anthony shot a withering glance at Dawlish. 'No more questions.'

Susan dismissed Dawlish with a negligent wave of her hand, Dawlish blinked as if he was still wondering which Hippogriff had trampled over him, and eventually stood and moved back to his seat, slightly swaying as he walked. When he finally turned around to sit down, thus facing the opposite side of the courtroom, a small sheen of sweat glinted on his face.

'Do you think he shat himself?' Justin muttered next to Harry's ear, and Harry barely managed to turn the snort that escaped him into a cough.

Roper got up from her seat and stalked towards the table that held the pieces of evidence. If her face was anything to go by, she was furious that Anthony so far had managed to counteract each point of her case. She picked up a manila envelope from the table. 'The prosecution introduces its next piece of evidence, number P three: a manila folder that contains numerous photos of secret rendezvous the husband of the accused had with the victim over the course of the last five years.' She held the manila envelope up for the judges and then for the audience to see. It sported a bright red stamp on the front.

Harry went rigid in his seat. Hadn't Greco mentioned a brown manila envelope with a red stamp that was missing from Ginny's safe? How were the odds of two identical manila envelopes connected to this case? What if this was the envelope that went missing from the safe in Ginny's dressing room? How had Roper got her hands on it, after all, Dawlish hadn't examined Ginny's dressing room?

He cast a look at Anthony's back, willing him to grasp the importance of the envelope.

Anthony was already on his feet, and Harry relaxed. His old friend from D.A. days was worth every Knut of the fee he demanded.

'Objection, your honour.'

Roper whirled around with flashing eyes. 'What now?'

'The defence wants to know how the prosecution got hold of that envelope.'

'I don't think that's of any importance for this case.' Roper looked down at Anthony along the back of her nose.

'I beg to differ, Madam Roper. The defence has reason to believe that this envelope was in the possession of the victim and went missing from the safe in her dressing room around the time of her death. Deputy Head Auror Dawlish already admitted he only examined the bedroom of the victim. So, the defence wants to know how that envelope ended up in the hands of the prosecution? That's a valid question that needs to be answered _before_ a closer examination of the evidence. After all, the evidence could be compromised or even be a forgery.'

Once again loud whispers disturbed the hearing. Susan banged her gavel and turned to the other judges. Orphington raised a Privacy Ward, and a heated discussion took place, with Susan, Padma, and Orphington on one side, Warrington, Smith, and Ogden on the other side, and Carmichael obviously undecided. Both Warrington and Susan talked insistently to him. At last, Carmichael came to a decision and nodded at Susan. Orphington cancelled the Privacy Ward, and Susan turned to Roper.

'Answer the question of the defence, Madam Roper.'

Roper shot her a murderous look. 'The envelope was sent to us by mail, together with a letter explaining its content.'

'How very convenient,' Anthony said with raised eyebrows. 'And who, pray tell, sent the letter?'

'It was an anonymous letter,' Roper gritted out with clenched teeth.

Anthony's eyebrows almost disappeared behind his neatly combed fringe. 'Are you telling us, Madam Roper, that the prosecution has accepted a piece of evidence whose veracity cannot be verified, coming from an unknown source without asking once who sent it or why it was given to you? Didn't it once occur to you that this so-called piece of evidence was sent to you with the intention to manipulate your chain of reasoning? Didn't it once occur to you that the real murderer might have sent that envelope to you to cover their tracks?'

With each of his sentences the whispers in the courtroom became louder, until Susan banged her gavel. 'Quiet!'

Anthony turned towards her. 'Your honour, the defence humbly request that the prosecution be directed to hand the envelope, its contents and the letter that came with it, to the Department of Mysteries for forensic examination. There's still hope the prosecution's amateurish handling of the evidence has not yet destroyed all fingerprints and we might find a link to the real murderer.'

'I protest that, the defence is clutching at any and all bristles in a broom,' Roper shouted.

Susan didn't pay her any heed, again she and the other judges held a conversation behind a Privacy Ward. This one was much shorter, though. Susan, Padma, Orphington and Carrington were of one mind, and Ogden voted with them. The glare Warrington shot him didn't bode well for the man.

Susan cancelled the Privacy Ward. 'Request sustained. Madam Roper, please hand over the pieces of evidence in question and the letter.'

Roper huffed, but went to her table, pulled a sheet of parchment out of her folder and handed it to Susan, together with the envelope.

Susan took the papers and glanced at the big clock over the public entrance door. 'While these papers are being examined by the Unspeakables, we will break for lunch and will sit again at two-thirty.' She banged her gavel and announced, 'Case adjourned.'

 _t.b.c._


	97. Chapter 94

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Sorry for the delay. I got stuck in the medieval times for the last five days, since my family and I participated in a medieval market.

Many thanks to my editor extraordinaire Shygui, who edited this chapter over and over again until it measured up to his standard. You are the best, my friend, and thank you for not letting me get away with anything. ;)

03/06/19 Chapter **94** only today, and a short one. I'll make up for that with the next chapter.

* * *

 **94**

 _ **Ministry of Magic, June 2nd 2008**_

As soon as Susan had adjourned the hearing and stood up from the judge's table, Ron also got to his feet with a deep sigh and took his wife's hand. Hermione replied with a small squeeze and caressed the back of his hand with her thumb. She always knew when he needed comfort and never hesitated to give it.

'Well, this was a most interesting morning,' a man in the tier behind them remarked to his neighbour.

Ron heaved another sigh as he let himself drift out of the courtroom with the masses. Interesting wasn't the word he would have used, devastating came much closer. As happy as he was for Harry and Daphne that none of Roper's so-called pieces of evidence had stuck so far, the professional in him couldn't help but be furious about the way she and Dawlish had handled the case: their unprofessionalism would be remembered and would cast the D.M.L.E. and the Auror Department in a bad light for years to come, even after these two morons had been kicked out.

And kicked out they would be, or his name wasn't Ronald Bilius Weasley, and Kingsley wasn't the man he'd taken him for. At least something good would come from this travesty.

'Head Auror Weasley, one minute, please.'

He looked up, his face already schooled in the forbidding frown he wore whenever the press demanded a statement that he was not yet ready to give them. Then he recognised the man, one of the new rookie Aurors, and he relaxed. 'Oh, it's you, Hadley, sorry I didn't recognise you for a moment .'

'That's alright, Head Auror. Uhm -' The young rookie hesitated to go on while his eyes darted to the many people that surrounded them.

Ron drew his wand and cast a Privacy Ward around them. 'You know, this is one of the situations this charm is meant for. You can talk now.'

Hadley had the grace to blush. 'Sorry, Head Auror.' He took a deep breath and fidgeted with his hands.

Ron's stomach balled itself into a hard knot. Hadley's nervousness didn't bode well. What in the name of Merlin's saggy left testicle had happened now? As if Dawlish' disastrous performance in the courtroom wasn't already bad enough -

'It's Meadows, sir.'

Hadley's voice interrupted his thoughts, and every muscle in his body tensed. Senior Auror Meadows was one of the best men he had at the moment, and right now he was involved in a very complex undercover mission. 'What's with Meadows?' he asked, his voice sharper than he intended.

Hadley jumped. 'His cover's been blown. They tortured him and dumped him in a Muggle rubbish tip. We believe that they thought he was dead, and didn't break his wand for that reason.' He gulped and turned a shade of green that Ron hadn't seen for a while. 'You should've seen him, sir.' Hadley shook himself, swallowed again and continued, I've never seen anything like it… he's nothing but a bloody pulp, somehow he managed to retrieve his wand and send his Patronus for help. We found him just in time, the healer at St. Mungo's said, fifteen minutes later, and he would've been dead.'

A cold fist closed its fingers around Ron's heart. Not Meadows, not Urian, his family already had endured enough losses, it would be beyond cruel to lose another family member, especially the one who'd been born on the fifth anniversary of the death of his aunt Dorcas in the first war. He sighed, why in the world did he have to be on leave right now, when one of his men needed him? His face hardened, screw department policy, Kingsley could sanction him later, one of his men got hurt and he had to make sure he got the best care possible.

He cancelled the Privacy Ward and turned to his wife. 'It's an emergency, I've got to go. Give Harry my best if I'm not back on time and tell him I'm sorry.'

He didn't wait for Hermione's response and grabbed Hadley by the arm. 'Use your Emergency Portkey to take us to the hospital.'

The rookie nodded and touched an amulet on a chain around his neck.

Seconds later they landed in the lobby of St. Mungo's.

'Where to?' he asked the young Auror.

Hadley led the way to St. Mungo's latest achievement in magical healing, the MICU*, where the worst cases were treated.

They'd put Meadows into a small cubicle at the far end of the ward. Ron stopped at the entrance and watched, he'd never seen something like this before.

Meadows' bed was surrounded by at least a dozen softly whirring silver instruments on low trolleys. Every few minutes one of the instruments would ping or give a puff of smoke in different colours, and the healer who sat on a chair next to Meadows would pull his wand and wave it across Meadows' body in a complicated pattern.

Meadows' left arm from fingers to shoulder seemed to be bathing in some sort of blood-red goo, and both legs, as well as his torso, were swathed in bandages that were stained with leaking fluids.

Ron knocked lightly on the doorframe to make his presence known. 'How is he?' he asked and walked into the cubicle, mindful not to bump into one of the low tables with the delicate instruments.

The healer looked up with a frown on his face. When he recognised Ron, his face softened. 'Head Auror Weasley.' He waved his wand once again across Meadows' body. A string of runes appeared, the healer studied them with an inscrutable expression and then turned to Ron. 'Rightfully, he should be dead. I have no idea how he survived the injuries those beasts in the guise of human beings inflicted on him. He's a strong one, that much is sure. He's also very agitated, though, he's continually fighting to get back to consciousness.'

Ron's eyes widened. 'The last we heard of him was that he was having a meeting with the inner circle of the gang he observed. He must've been found out during that meeting, he never made it back to the debriefing.'

He closed his eyes, trying to imagine how he would feel if he had attended to an important meeting, maybe heard something of vast importance to the ongoing case, and being unable to deliver his message because of his condition. Meadows was a good Auror, one of the best in the whole department. He'd fight tooth and nail to get his job done, no matter what it would cost him.

'May I?' Ron pointed towards the side of the hospital bed. 'Maybe I can calm him down.'

The healer made an inviting gesture.

Ron stepped next to the bed and took Meadows' right hand, which was missing his pinky finger and was bandaged heavily to the elbow. 'Urian, can you hear me? It's me, Ron Weasley. Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.'

He held his breath. There, Meadows' bandaged fingers flexed around his hand in a weak pressure.

'Good man,' Ron said with a broad grin on his face. 'Listen, Urian, I know you were at a lunch meeting with the inner circle of that new Death Eater gang. I think you've heard something of importance there. Press my hand again if I'm right.'

Again, there was that almost imperceptible pressure.

'Alright, I think you heard something we need to know.'

This time the pressure was much stronger.

Ron bent down until his head was very close to Meadows'. 'Come on, tell me, I know you can do it.'

Meadows' hand clung to his, only one of his eyes popped open, the white was blood red, the pupil so dilated that the brown iris was almost obscured, and his split and puffy lips tried to form words. A massive bruise that was black as any Ron had seen before covered his jaw, and Ron shuddered. Meadow' lips moved again, revealing what a wreck his mouth was: teeth chipped, broken or completely missing, his tongue a swollen lump of flesh that couldn't even wet his dry lips without causing great pain.

Ron brought his ear close to Meadows' mouth so as not to miss a single syllable.

'Luce Ma'foy - con'act - Dafee Pot-.'

The words were so low Ron almost didn't understand them. What was the meaning of that? He furrowed his eyebrows and thought about Meadows' words.

Everything within Ron went ice cold. He'd been right all along, the slimy bastard was out to get Daphne. He straightened and patted Meadows' hand. 'Alright, Urian, you've delivered your message, you can relax now.'

A small sigh escaped Meadows' mouth, his eyelid fluttered shut, and he slipped into a deep sleep.

'Amazing,' the healer said.

'He's an Auror, one of the best, he wouldn't rest until his job was done and he'd reported in,' Ron said, his thoughts already running ahead to the next things that had to be done. Malfoy had bought a contract on Daphne and the bastard had ordered the murder of one of his Aurors.

Ron took a deep breath. Malfoy would be back in holding cells before the day was much older.

* * *

After the war the Malfoy house elves had learned the hard way never to slam the door of Malfoy Manor into the faces of the Aurors. When Ron and half a dozen of Aurors appeared on the doorstep, they didn't even squeak, instead they moved aside and held the doors open.

Draco, on the other hand, was obviously not as capable of learning as his elves.

'What's the meaning of this?' he asked as he stepped out of the drawing room and into the entrance hall, obviously alarmed by the sounds of many feet in the hall. At the sight of Ron and the half dozen Aurors accompanying him his hand went to his wand pocket.

Ron's wand flicked with the speed that hours of constant drilling provided, and Draco's wand sailed through the air and clattered onto the immaculate marble floor at the far end of the entrance hall.

'Arrest him,' Ron said, and two of his Aurors stepped forward. 'Where's your husband?' he asked Narcissa who had appeared in the doorframe behind Draco, followed by her daughter-in-law.

'Up in his bedroom,' Narcissa said. Was he mistaken or was there a gleam of triumph in her cold eyes? It was hard to tell, her face was as unmoved as ever, while her daughter in law didn't bother to hide her glee as she watched the Aurors putting her husband into a Body Bind Curse, before applying the new magical suppression cuffs to his arms, which would curtail any wandless and animagi abilities.

The Malfoy men evidently really had a way with their wives.

'Don't bother yourself, I know my way.' Like every other Auror who had been in the force longer than five minutes, he knew the layout of Malfoy Manor by heart. He motioned with his head toward the four other Aurors, and together they hurried up the broad stairs and down the hallway towards the master bedroom.

They didn't bother to announce themselves with a polite knock on the door.

The tall door banged open, Ron's eyes searched the room for his prey, wand at the ready.

Lucius Malfoy lay on top of the brocade covers of the huge bed, his right hand clutched in the folds of his robes above his heart. The colour of his skin was a sickly grey, sweat beaded on his forehead, and his breath came in shallow, laboured gasps that echoed through the room as soon as the bang of the door faded away.

'Lucius Malfoy, I arrest you for the attempted murder of Daphne Potter and Urian Meadows.'

The ghost of a sneer flickered around Lucius' lips. 'I knew you'd come. However, you're too late.' He took another laboured breath, and his face became even paler. With what seemed to be his last bit of strength he rose his head from the cushions and stared at Ron. 'I swear by the grave of the Dark Lord, I was never out to harm Daphne Potter.'

His head sank back onto the cushion, he drew another gurgling breath, then his breast stopped moving, and his vacant eyes stared up at the canopy.

'Damn it!' Ron kicked his foot against a bedpost, wincing as his foot rebounded from the hard wood surface. The bloody bastard had cheated him out of his revenge for Meadows by dying on him.

'Do you think he said the truth about the contract on Mrs Potter, sir?' one of the younger Aurors asked him. By now everyone in the department knew about Mundungus' failed deal with Roper, that Dean had told him.

Ron shook his head. 'No, Lucius Malfoy was a lying, self-serving bastard all his life long. I doubt he underwent a sudden reformation on his deathbed. However, the assassin is not going to carry out the contract when Lucius' death and Draco's arrest become public. He won't hang his arse out to dry for two crooks who aren't able to help him cover his tracks or pay him anymore.'

 _t.b.c._

* * *

*MICU: magical intensive care unit


	98. Chapter 95

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Sorry for the delay. Therefore I present you the longest chapter of the story, the monster has got some 14k words.

Thousand thanks to my wonderful editor Shygui, who helped me dragging this monster to the light, kicking and screaming. His words, not mine, although they are fitting. You have jomidea how many times he went through this chapter until he was satisfied. That wasn't easy, either, because I was constantly shifting paragraphs around and adding new paragraphs and deleting others. I guess you get the drift, it was a nightmare. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for coping with me, Shygui!

Chapter **95** , 14/06/19

* * *

 **95**

 _ **The Rectory, June 2nd 2008**_

Harry and Daphne Apparated back to _The Rectory,_ together with Anthony and their Auror guards of Seamus and Dean. Harry had sent his Patronus to Greco and asked the man to join them for lunch while they were still fighting their way through the crowds to the Ministry Apparition Point.

'Was it my imagination or were the crowds not as hostile as this morning?' Harry asked as they walked towards the house.

'They definitely were more subdued,' Anthony said. 'Maybe Roper's performance or lack thereof had them thinking. Although I wouldn't put my money on it, Merlin only knows what Skeeter will make of this morning and which way she will sway public opinion. Anyway, it's the judge's opinion we have to worry about, and if I'm not mistaken, Orphington, Ogden and Carmichael are distinctly unhappy with Roper.'

Daphne cocked her head to the side. 'That's good, isn't it?'

'Indeed,' Anthony said, but was interrupted by the sound of Apparition behind them. They turned around.

Greco walked towards them with long strides, with the expression of a man who'd had a productive morning.

'We'll station ourselves out here, Harry, that way, even if we're asked, we couldn't hear anything if we wanted to,' said Dean, motioning to the outdoor setting on the front veranda.

Harry nodded, 'I'll have some lunch delivered out to you shortly, and thanks, guys.'

The two Aurors just gave him nods and moved off to the table and chairs.

Harry waited until they were in the house and had sat down at the table in the breakfast room, where Matty had laid out two pitchers of juice and water along with a cold lunch of bread, meats, cheese and fruits for them. He asked her to provide the same for Seamus and Dean before organising his thoughts. 'I gather you came across something new this morning?' he asked Greco and put a small slice of meat on his plate. He eyed his plate, a queasy feeling in his stomach. His throat was still constricted, would he get anything down at all?

'Well, I don't know yet if it's going to be good, but we're making fast progress with the investigations in Ms Weasley's estate. Also, I got the additional answers from my contact in the U.S.A. following my inquiry to Her Majesty's Land Registry about the ownership of Williams' flat.'

'And that is?' Harry asked with an audible breath and pursed his lips. Sometimes Greco was just a tad too smug for his taste.

Greco put his fork on his plate and pulled his ever-present notepad out of the pocket of his robes. 'According to the Land Registry the flat belongs to a company named Carenton Ltd. with their main office in Dover. The only shareholder of that company is an U.S. company, N.D.C. LLC, with their offices in Salem, Massachusetts. I wrote my contact in the U.S.A. for more information about them and he got back to me almost immediately.' He paused and took a sip of his pumpkin juice.

Harry barely refrained from tapping his foot.

Greco put down his glass. 'N.D.C. LLC is owned to one hundred percent by another company - Carrington Real Estate LLC., also from Salem, Massachusetts. Does that name ring a bell?'

The other three gaped at him. 'You mean -' Daphne said.

'Carrington Real Estate LLC is owned by one single man - one Mr Alexander Carrington, currently living in Paris, France, if my contact has his informations straight. I've already ordered an International Portkey for tomorrow morning. Mr Carrington and I are going to have a little chat about the man currently residing in his London property.'

Daphne leaned back in her seat, her face marred by a deep frown. 'I had no idea that Alexander Carrington was my cousin until a couple of days ago, and now his name keeps popping up at every angle we look. Am I the only one who thinks this is too much of a coincidence?'

'You aren't, love,' Harry said and put his hand on hers.

'I also got news about Elias Frudge,' Greco said. 'I think we have to scratch him off the list of probable suspects. According to my sources in the U.S.A. his new wife is expecting twins and facing a difficult pregnancy. The babies are due any day now, and I've been told Frudge has spent the last four weeks waiting on his wife hand and foot while she's been confined to bed rest, albeit at an exclusive maternity home.'

Daphne's face brightened at that. 'I'm happy to hear that. I hated to think of Elias as a possible suspect, he's such a nice guy.'

During the remainder of the lunch break they brought Greco up to speed about the happenings of the morning. Greco shared their tentatively optimistic view. 'Keep up the good work,' he said to Anthony as they parted for the afternoon, Greco to return to his work on Ginny's estate, and the other three to return to the courtroom.

The tiers of the courtroom were already filled to bursting when they walked into the room, Roper was sat in her chair, her nose buried into a thick folder. The judges came back not even a minute after them, and Susan reopened the trial.

The court clerk handed her a thick manila envelope. Susan broke the seal and examined the contents.

'The Department of Mysteries delivered quick work,' she said and motioned to Anthony and Roper to come to the judge's table. 'These are the copies of the reports about the examination the Department of Mysteries conducted on the envelope and its contents the Prosecution wanted to introduce to the trial this morning.' She handed Anthony and Roper each a folder. 'Does the prosecution plead for an adjournment so they can get acquainted with the results of the investigation?'

Roper thumbed through the folder. At Susan's question she looked up. 'That won't be necessary.'

Susan's eyebrows shot up. The next moment, she had her features back under control. 'Very well. What about you, Mr Goldstein?'

Anthony looked up from the folder in his hands. 'The defence wishes to hear the testimony of the Unspeakable who conducted the examination, to get an understanding if the evidence is contaminated before it is introduced to the trial by the prosecution.'

Susan shared a look with the other judges. Padma, Orphington, and Carmichael nodded. She didn't wait for the other three to make up their mind and banged the gavel. 'Sustained.' She nodded towards the court clerk.

For a second time that day a dove Patronus flew out of the courtroom. A few minutes later the tall doors opened and a grey-robed Unspeakable walked in, his face hidden under the hood of his robes, which were worked with runes designed to slightly obscure the wearers face and alter the voice when the hood was up.

Susan motioned him towards the witness box and cautioned him, then nodded towards Anthony. 'Your witness, Mr Goldstein.'

Anthony stood up and walked to the witness box. As a rule, Unspeakables were permitted to keep their anonymity at court, for reasons of security as well as to stress their impartiality, so Anthony didn't address the Unspeakable with his name, even though he stood close enough to him to make out most of his features and probably could hazard a guess at who it was if he knew them.

'Unspeakable X, please describe to the court what kind of examinations you performed on the envelope and the photos it contained.'

The Unspeakable cleared his throat and spoke in a deep baritone. 'We examined the envelope for fingerprints and human DNA.'

His statement caused a lot of murmurs among the visitors.

'That was to be expected,' Justin muttered, and Harry nodded in agreement. Muggle methods of providing evidence like fingerprints and lately the magical DNA analysis had been approved by the Wizengamot after the end of the war and were eventually becoming common in criminal cases. The broad magical public, however, still didn't know what to think of the relatively new methods. While the Muggleborns and Halfbloods were open minded, most Purebloods deemed it unnecessary, new-fangled nonsense.

Warrington seemed to share the opinion of most Purebloods, if his sneer was anything to go by. What a surprise. Harry dried his moist palms at the side of his robes. Would the other judges be more open minded? Orphington, Ogden and Carmichael at least listened to the Unspeakable with undivided attention, and so did Padma. That was more than could be said about Smith, he seemed to be half asleep in his seat once again.

Susan sent a warning glance towards the audience, and the murmurs died down.

'What did you find out?' Anthony asked.

'We couldn't secure enough DNA material for a proper analysis, so these findings aren't conclusive. However, we managed to secure numerous sets of fingerprints.'

'How many?'

'We counted the partly overlapping fingerprints of ten different people.'

A smug grin appeared on Roper's face, and Harry's heart fell. Was it possible to separate the overlapping fingerprints from each other with magical means? Even if that was the case, wouldn't it be next to impossible to identify ten different people? At least it would be impossible as long as their fingerprints weren't already collected in the archives of the Department of Mysteries - which was true for the fingerprints of most of the magical population.

'You mean, the envelope and the photos have been handed by ten people each?' Anthony asked.

'I didn't say that. We counted the fingerprints of ten different people, but not each object was handed by all of them. In fact, most photos only showed four or five sets of prints, while the envelope probably held the prints of even more people, but they were smudgy so we couldn't identify them. The letter, however, only showed the fingerprints of three people, of whom we could identify two.'

Anthony gave a nod of understanding. 'I see.' He paused, as if contemplating his next question. 'Please, tell us in detail how you conducted the examination.'

The Unspeakable leaned back in his seat and crossed his legs, he gave the impression of a man who felt as at home in the courtroom as he did in his own living room. 'Most citizens of magical Britain have no idea how much magitechnical progress was impeded by the uprising Pureblood supremacist movement since the early twentieth century.'

Loud hisses from the visitor tiers followed that statement, and Susan banged her gavel. 'Quiet!'

The Unspeakable was not at all fazed by the disturbers. 'Until then, our culture, while hiding from the Muggles, always had kept a somewhat open mind to Muggle achievements and more than once developed magical means to adapt Muggle inventions to our world. The Hogwarts Express, the Wizarding Wireless, and magical photography are prime examples of this. In each case these masterpieces of magical genius were achieved by Purebloods, Halfbloods and Muggleborns working together, with the latter providing the necessary insight to the technical workings of the Muggle inventions, so that magical substitutes could be found.'

'Well, that history lesson is nice and well, but I fail to see what it has to do with this case,' Roper said. Her remark elicited a lot of approving murmurs from the audience.

Anthony whirled around to the judge's table. 'The defence once again protests the repeated interference of the prosecution with our right to interrogate the witness as we see fit.'

'Sustained,' Susan said without hesitation. 'Madam Roper, this is the second time you interfered with the rights of the defence, you'd better keep your remarks to yourself during the rest of the interrogation, or I'm going to use a Silencing Charm on you.'

This time, Harry didn't bother to hide his grin. It was about time Roper learned that her tactics didn't work.

'Bear with me, I will come to the important points soon,' the Unspeakable said. 'This excursion into the history of magitechnical developments is necessary to understand our new methods of examination.'

That got the attention of the audience, the hissing and whispers died down.

'Everything changed at the beginning of the twentieth century. The publishing of "The Pureblood Directory" marked the first lowpoint in our society, the social exclusion of Muggleborns from those within the halls of power. In its wake followed a series of laws that made it nigh on impossible for Muggleborns to obtain a job higher ranking than that of a simple secretary or maintenance worker across most of our society. The Auror Department and the Department of Mysteries were explicitly forbidden to hire Muggleborns. Many Muggleborns left our society and even the country, a process that was aided by the rise of Grindelwald. Since the mid-forties of the last century not a single magitechnical development has been made in this country. At the same time, due to the raging war in Europe and the desire of the Allied Forces to put an end to that, technical development in the Muggle world took an ever increasing upswing. Ever since the last days of Grindelwald the magical world and the Muggle world in this country have drifted apart at an alarming speed. By the end of the Second War against You-Know-Who the Muggle world was so far ahead of us that they would've been able to extinguish all magical people with a flick of a control switch.'

His last words were met with an incredulous silence.

'Hippogryff shit!' a voice from the topmost tiers shouted at last.

'I wish it was.' The Unspeakable sighed. 'We were lucky that the monster that was out to ruin our world has been overcome. As a result, almost all laws that discriminate Muggleborns have been revoked, and we're already reaping the fruits of those decisions. A new generation of Muggleborns is working in the Auror Department and within the Department of Mysteries. From them we have been given information regarding the unheard developments that Muggles have made in the field of forensics, and we've worked hard to come up with magical equivalents to the Muggle techniques. Today, I'm proud to say we not only drew level with some of the developments the Muggles have made, but in some aspects we surpassed them. That is especially true for the spells we developed for the examinations of fingerprints.'

Cheers rang through the courtroom, a lot of wizards and witches sported bright smiles on their faces and were having animated conversations with the people next to them. Even the judges smiled pleased and proud at the last statement of the Unspeakable, Warrington and Smith included.

Justin's eyes became big. 'Holy shit, he's playing them like a fiddle, he's calling on their pride to make them accept the use of what is basically a Muggle achievement and process in this trial.'

'Makes you wonder if he was a Slytherin.' Harry snorted.

'In the Muggle world the examination of overlapping fingerprints is a very complicated process, it is something that they only have limited success with even now, and without the help of the invention they call computers they wouldn't be able to do it at all. Muggle scientists all over the world have worked and are still working hard to develop and improve the so-called programmes they are running on those computers to examine fingerprints. There's a lot of manual work involved to enter the fingerprints into the computer systems, followed by complicated and sometimes lengthy operations within those computers until the overlapping fingerprints are separated. They need to repeat the process to find out whether there's a match in their archives, and a third process determines the age of the respective fingerprints.' The Unspeakable paused.

'I'm proud to tell you that the Department of Mysteries developed a series of spells to achieve the same results in a modicum of the time that Muggles take. These spells can be cast in a spell chain, so magical examination of fingerprints takes only a few seconds until we get reliable results.'

The audience whooped at this.

'He's a good actor,' Harry said to Justin under the noise in the room and cast a surreptitious look at Roper. The smug smile had been wiped off her face. There was no doubt she had counted on the Department of Mysteries being unable to gather any relevant evidence from the envelope and its content.

Susan banged her gavel to restore order.

'Thank you for that fascinating explanation, Unspeakable X,' Anthony said. 'Will you, please, share the results of your investigations?'

'Certainly Mr Goldstein; as I said before, the envelope has been handed by too many people to get decent results. We hoped, however, that less people would have had reasons to look at the contents, so we concentrated on the photos and the letter coming with them. As I previously mentioned, we got ten different sets of overlapping fingerprints from the photos, seven of them we couldn't identify. The oldest fingerprints our Detection Spells came up with belonged to six different people, of whom we couldn't identify anyone. Since they were the first layer of fingerprints on the photos, it is very likely they belonged to the wizard or witch who developed the photos and maybe put them into a bag to send them to whomever. The next layer of fingerprints belonged to the victim. Without any doubt Ginevra Weasley has looked at each of the photos in the envelope, at least twice, we also know that she made a set of duplicates at some point, given the Gemino Spell residue and her magical signature.'

Of course this revelation was commented by the audience, and Susan needed to restore order in the courtroom once again.

The Unspeakable waited until the whispers had died down. 'Ms Weasley's fingerprints were overlapped by a set of fingerprints we couldn't identify. This witch or wizard also held each photo in their hands. The last two layers of fingerprints that overlapped the fingerprints of the up to now unknown witch or wizard belonged to the Head of the D.M.L.E. and the Deputy Head Auror. They both have handled the evidence without taking any of the usual precautions outlined in the investigative manual. Rather unprofessional, I must say.'

Roper and Dawlish both turned crimson at the Unspeakable's blunt statement, and Harry's lips twitched. That served them right.

'What about the letter that was sent to the D.M.L.E.?' Anthony asked.

'This one had three sets of overlapping fingerprints. The first set was identical with the fingerprints of the as of yet unidentified witch or wizard who handed the photos between the victim and Madam Roper and Deputy Head Auror Dawlish. The other two sets we identified as the fingerprints of Madam Roper and Deputy Head Auror Dawlish.'

'Thank you, Unspeakable X,' Anthony said. 'I don't have any more questions.'

Susan looked at Roper, who shook her head.

Anthony turned to the judge's table. 'The defence enters a plea that the envelope and its contents not be introduced to the trial as piece of evidence for the prosecution. As the Department of Mysteries have ably demonstrated, the photos have been handled by a yet unknown person _after_ the victim held them in her hands, and then been sent to the D.M.L.E. anonymously. Since the yet unidentified fingerprints were on both the photos and the letter, it's a safe guess that the person who saw the pictures after the victim also sent them to the D.M.L.E., and chose to stay anonymously to hide their involvement into the death of Ginevra Weasley.'

Roper shot to her feet. 'Objection! This is speculation on part of the defence. We don't know the motive of whoever sent the pictures for staying anonymous, and therefore we can't draw any conclusions if this person was involved in the murder of Ginevra Weasley.'

Harry heaved an inward sigh. For once Roper was right, unfortunately, given the information she and the court had at this point. The defence hadn't revealed Williams' potential role in this case yet, and they wouldn't do so until the prosecution's case was closed. He glanced at the panel of judges, who were once again discussing the topic behind a Privacy Ward.

Susan lifted the Privacy Ward. 'Objection sustained. The envelope and its content will be admitted to the case as piece of evidence P three of the prosecution.'

If Anthony was frustrated by this decision, he didn't let on. He accepted it with a small nod towards the judges and returned to his seat next to Daphne.

Roper cast a triumphant look at him, that Anthony did not deign to see. When Susan motioned to her to continue the case of the prosecution, she stood up. She gave a brief glance at the envelope, frowned, bit her lip, and seemed to come to a decision.

'The prosecution calls Mrs Molly Weasley.'

The courtroom fell dead silent.

Harry gave another inward sigh, he should have expected this, over the course of the few short weeks since Ginny's death speculations about the relationship between him, Daphne and Ginny had gone from hyperbol to the insanely ludicrous in the British press. Skeeter had ignited the first spark with her article about the Veterans Ball. As they'd feared, soon after Daphne's arrest rumours about Harry being blackmailed into a marriage with Daphne by the Greengrass family had been smeared through _The Daily Prophet_ ; with no doubt in anyone's mind that the leak was somewhere high up in the D.M.L.E. The rumours had turned public opinion against Daphne even more.

Spurred on by _The Daily Prophet_ , the British magical public couldn't wait to hear what really had been going on between the Saviour of the Magical World and the two women who'd had a starring role in his love life from an inside source.

Harry cast a look on Molly's resolute, but distraught face as she mounted the witness box. As soon as she sat, she threw a quick glance at Daphne, a determined glint in her eyes, and his heart sank. Obviously she couldn't wait, either, to present her story to the magical world, a story that would likely paint Daphne in a heinous light.

Susan cautioned Molly about her duties, and Roper was just about to ask her first question, when Anthony interrupted.

'The defence petitions that the witness be questioned under Veritaserum.'

'Objection,' Roper shouted into the loud murmurs of the spectators. She turned to the judge's table and addressed Susan. 'Your Honour, the law regarding this is unambiguous: a witness may be questioned under Veritaserum if they consent, or if there's a strong indication the witness might attempt to obfuscate the truth. Mrs Weasley won't give her consent, and nothing indicates that she's going to do anything but tell the truth as she knows it.'

'The defence concedes that the prosecution is correct in its statements except for the fact that she's the mother of the victim, apparently deeply distressed by the death of her only daughter and, going by your case so far, Madam Roper, we believe that much of Mrs Weasley's evidence will be hearsay and conjecture,' Anthony said. 'The defence believes that without the use of Veritaserum that there is a strong probability that the witness will … uhm … adapt her statement to fit a certain outcome, in the understandable wish to see someone pay for the death of her daughter, without even being aware she's potentially fabricating evidence, Your Honour.'

Susan exchanged a look with the other judges. 'We will discuss that.' She cast a Privacy Ward.

The discussion seemed to go on for hours, to the point where Harry was becoming uncomfortable in his seat. It soon became apparent that Susan, William Orphington and Padma were in one corner, while Warrington, Smith and Carmichael had another point of view. Ogden seemed to be undecided for a long time, until Warrington bent towards him and said something that obviously wasn't meant for the ears of the other judges. Ogden paled, and gave a small nod.

The judges seemed to have come to a decision, Susan cancelled the Privacy Ward. 'Petition dismissed,' she said and motioned to Roper to continue. Nothing in her demeanour let on if she'd noticed the small exchange between Warrington and Ogden, and what she thought about it.

Harry gave Ogden a thoughtful look. So, over the course of the lunch break, Warrington seemed to have found some sort of lever that guaranteed Ogden's compliance. He had the recess day tomorrow to come up with something for Orphington, Carmichael, Padma and Susan. Merlin have mercy he would fail.

Roper gave Molly a reassuring smile. Had they practised ahead what would happen while Molly was in the witness box?

'Mrs Weasley, during the first weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts everyone in the magical world thought your daughter was the steady girlfriend of our saviour. The announcement of his marriage to the accused came like a bolt of lightning out of blue skies. Can you tell us how that came to pass?'

Molly gave a teary sniff, but nodded. 'Harry and Ginny already had been Hogwarts sweethearts during Harry's sixth year and Ginny's fifth year. Albus Dumbledore had given Harry a task to complete, and Harry knew he wasn't returning to Hogwarts for his seventh year. He couldn't ask Ginny to come with him, since she was still a minor and had the Trace on her, and he also knew she would be in danger if she was known to be his girlfriend, so he ended things with her after Albus' funeral, albeit it was plain to see it killed both of them.' Molly pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes to the sympathetic murmurs in the room.

'The feelings they had for each other were strong, so it was no surprise for any of us they survived the long separation. They were back together almost immediately after the war. You should have seen them, they were so happy despite all the losses we had suffered. Ginny was beaming like the sun, and Harry practically carried her on his hands. Arthur and I were sure he was going to propose on her seventeenth birthday.' She pressed the handkerchief to her eyes.

'We know it never came to that. What happened?' Roper asked.

'There was that family agreement between the Greengrass and the Potters. Apparently Harry's grandfather had been best friends with Cyrus Greengrass' father, or something like that, and the two men got it into their heads to unite the families by the marriage of their children, should they happen to have a boy and a girl. They even had a contract, barbaric, if you ask me.' Molly's chest heaved in indignation.

'It never came to that since both families had only boys in that generation. Cyrus Greengrass and James Potter weren't much better than their fathers, though, they both had the same bee in the bonnet, but thankfully their wives were smarter than them and put an end to their horrible idea, or Harry would have been bound to Daphne in a marriage contract the day he was born.' She huffed.

Roper furrowed her eyebrows. 'I always had the impression Mr Potter had to marry his wife because of an old marriage contract between the families. After all, that was the explanation Cyrus Greengrass gave for the surprising marriage.'

Molly became tense, she lowered her handkerchief and shot a death glare at Daphne. 'He lied. There never was a marriage contract between Harry and _that woman,_ ' she said in a quivering voice. 'Cyrus Greengrass wanted to get Harry under his thumb, and he wasn't squeamish about the means he used. He blackmailed Harry into marrying his daughter.'

Pandemonium broke out in the visitors tiers at her words. Susan banged her gavel repeatedly, with no result.

Harry cast a look at the rigid back of his wife. How had she taken Molly's testimony? His heart became heavy, and he heaved an inward sigh. If only he could spare her this humiliation and heartache. However, he knew her well enough to be sure that the exposure of their private life, although bad enough, wasn't as half as painful to her than the slandering of her father's name, a father she had admired and loved despite of what he'd done to her or to them.

Daphne's posture didn't let on anything of the hurt she felt. Pride of his wife welled up in him, no matter what happened, Daphne wouldn't lose her composure and she'd fight as long as it was necessary.

Roper waited until Susan got the room under control. 'What exactly did Cyrus Greengrass do to the Saviour of the Magical World?'

'James Potter was the son of elderly parents. His father made Cyrus Greengrass, who was much older than James, the executor of his will until James or his heirs turned thirty. Until then, it was up to Cyrus how much gold James, or those after him, Harry, would get out of the estate.'

A tear rolled down Molly's cheek. 'Nobody knew, even Ginny had no idea, he hid it so well, but the years of fighting against You-Know-Who had taken their toll on Harry. When the war was over, he was diagnosed with a terminal illness. According to the healers at St. Mungo's there was only one way to help him, an extremely expensive treatment with a very rare potion regime.' Her voice broke and she pressed the handkerchief against her eyes.

Harry bit on his lips. He remembered as if it had been yesterday Molly's distress about his condition, and her rightful anger of Cyrus on his behalf. There was no doubt Molly loved him. If only she hadn't let her grief get the better of her and lashed out at Daphne! Still, Molly cared for him, he had to remind himself of that whenever his anger toward her threatened to get the better of him.

Molly needed a few moments to get herself back under control. When she looked up, her eyes still brimmed with tears. 'The Goblins had taken all the money in Harry's trust vault as compensation for the damage he'd caused when he broke into Gringotts and escaped on the back of one of their dragons.'

'What?' a wizard on the upmost tiers shouted. 'Those greedy little bastards! They should have rewarded him for saving our world!'

An uproar followed his words. Susan's gavel had as good as no effect to quieten down the enraged masses. Quite a lot of the visitors, red-faced with anger, were clamoring for a severe punishment of the Goblin Nation for the unjust treatment of their saviour.

A hand pressed Harry's shoulder, and he turned around to look into Bill's tense face. 'Say something, Harry, or we're going to have the next Goblin-Wizard War on our hands before this day is much older.'

Harry looked around, into the enraged faces of the wizards and witches in the room. Bill had a point there, once again the magical world proved that common sense wasn't its strongest quality.

He stood up, walked a few steps towards the judge's table and turned around to face the visitors tiers. Then he raised his wand.

 _Bang!_

The room fell silent, the explosion still echoing around the vast room.

'I want to make one thing very clear to each and everyone of you present: after the war the Goblin Nation and I entered into negotiations about how to deal with the repercussions of my break-in at Gringotts. They were honourable and forthright with me through the entire process and we very quickly managed to come to an agreement that was beneficial _for both sides_. There was no pressure exerted on me, I paid the compensation we'd agreed on of my own free will. While it left me somewhat short of cash reserves for some time, I was never destitute nor could I not afford to live and buy for where required. That's all. Thank you for your attention.' He turned to the judge's table. 'I'm sorry I monopolised your domiciliary rights, Your Honours.'

Susan inclined her head. 'On this occasion I believe that we will make an exception, Mr Potter. However please don't make a habit out of it.'

The soft chuckles that ran around the courtroom cleared away the remaining tension. Harry gave a short bow to the judge's table and went back to his seat.

'Please, go ahead,' Susan said to Roper.

Roper motioned to Molly to go on with her story.

'Harry would have died without that special treatment. However, at that point he didn't have the Galleons to pay for what he needed, so he went to Cyrus Greengrass and asked him to give him the gold out of his father's estate. Cyrus Greengrass refused.'

Yet again the room exploded into a hubbub.

'And how did he explain his refusal?' Roper asked as soon as Susan had restored order.

'A few weeks prior Cyrus had talked to Harry about his estate. During that discussion he demanded that Harry become his successor and marry his daughter, he reasoned after this is what he and James had planned when the two were born. Harry refused, and Cyrus told him he'd make sure that Harry wouldn't get a single Knut out of the estate before he turned thirty, unless he bowed to his demands.'

Molly took a deep breath. 'When Harry asked him of the money for his treatment, Cyrus Greengrass gave him the ultimatum: agree to his demands to be trained as his successor and marry his daughter, or there would be no access to his money.'

Pandemonium broke loose in the courtroom once more, Susan banged her gavel repeatedly to no avail. At last she took a note out of Harry's book and cast a Cannon Blast Spell. The noise quieted down, but even then there were the odd resentful mutterings and hateful stares directed at Daphne.

Daphne sat very straight. Nothing in her demeanour let on if the public's reaction was getting at her.

Harry balled his fists by his side to prevent himself from jumping up, taking her in his arms, and sheltering her from the hate directed at her.

'Quiet, or I will have the courtroom cleared,' Susan said in a magically amplified voice.

That did the trick, the last whispers died down, albeit the hateful glares at Daphne continued.

'Was Mrs Potter an accomplice in the blackmail?' Roper asked.

Molly shrugged. 'Well, she went ahead with it, so I guess she was.'

Anthony sprung to his feet. 'Objection! That's pure conjecture on the part of the witness.'

'Objection sustained,' Susan said. 'Mrs Weasley, if you don't know first-hand of Mrs Potter's opinion of her father's plan before the marriage took place, you have to say so.'

'I never talked to her about that,' Molly said grudgingly.

'Thank you, Mrs Weasley.' Anthony gave her a small bow and sat down, apparently oblivious to the glare Molly shot at him.

'Cyrus Greengrass plan to blackmail the Saviour of the Magical World into a marriage with his daughter obviously worked,' Roper said. 'However, how did he and your daughter react to their dreams of a shared future being destroyed?'

Molly let out a deep sigh. 'It's always hard to tell with Harry, he's so used to bottling everything up inside of him and will tell you that he's fine even when he's on the brink of death. If he was devastated, he didn't let on. Ginny, however, became distant. In the weeks coming up to Harry's marriage she avoided him and was hardly at home anymore. The day after the ceremony she told us she was going to sign a contract with the Taos Tornados and leave the country. I objected, of course, but my husband persuaded me to give her my blessing. He thought it would help her to get over Harry.'

She curled her fist around the handkerchief in her hand and let out another sigh. 'At first, it seemed as if my husband had been right. Ginny met Elias at Taos, and they seemed to have fallen for each other head over heels. However, that marriage didn't last long. They separated two years later, and for the next eight years until her death my little girl drifted from one unhappy marriage into another.'

Her face contorted, and she pressed the handkerchief to her eyes.

Roper waited until she had regained her composure. 'How did Mr Potter react to the news of Ms Weasley's first marriage?'

'That is hard to tell,' Molly said, and lowered the handkerchief into her lap. 'Harry has always been a model husband to Daphne, whenever I saw them together he behaved gentle and considerately towards her. That first Christmas after the war, when Ginny came for a surprise visit with her new husband, wasn't an exception. If Harry was hurt by Ginny's marriage, he didn't let on.' She tilted her head up as if remembering a detail. 'Although I remember he left the room at one point, and Ginny left soon after. Daphne followed them a couple of minutes later.'

'Do you know what happened between those three then?'

Molly shook her head. 'Ginny never told me. She came back into the room some time later. Harry and Daphne didn't return. Instead, Harry's house elf Apparated into our living room and told us that Daphne wasn't feeling well, so Harry had taken her home.'

Roper let that statement sink in while she appeared to consult her notes. The many whispers in the courtroom indicated that the speculations about the supposed love triangle between Harry, Daphne and Ginny Weasley were running wild.

'Let's talk about the events at this years Veterans Ball,' Roper said, looking up from her notes. 'You reported a confrontation between your daughter and the accused took place that evening, and the accused threatened to murder your daughter. What exactly happened?'

'Ginny was one of the guests of honour that night and as tradition dictated she sat at the Minister's table. The Potters also were part of that party. The Minister opened the ball with Ginny, and then she danced with another of her other dinner partners. For some reason Harry decided to ignore tradition and danced the third dance with Ginny instead of Daphne. She didn't take that well. A couple of hours after dinner Ginny visited my husband and me at our table. When she got up to return to her party, she stepped on her dress and ripped a seam appart. I offered to fix that, so we went to the restroom together. When we left the restroom, we ran into Daphne.'

Molly paused and licked her lips. 'I tell you, she was scary. The look she gave my little girl…' She shook her head, lost in her memory. 'Daphne blocked the doorway, so Ginny said something like, "Excuse me, please let us pass." Daphne didn't listen, she just kept glaring at Ginny with those flashing eyes. Next thing I know is she grabs Ginny by the shoulders. Her fingernails made deep scratches. And then she said, "Keep away from my husband, or I will kill you."'

Loud whispers flared up in the courtroom and died down just as quickly when Susan banged her gavel.

Once again Roper took a few moments to let Molly's words sink in before she asked the next question. 'What did your daughter tell you about her relationship with Mr Potter?'

'Ginny always has been very open with me,' Molly said. 'The last time I visited her in the U.S.A. she told me that Harry seemed to go out of his way to meet up with her whenever he was over there. They'd meet at parties, and he'd always seek her out and invite her to have a private dinner with him.'

Each eye in the room turned towards Harry at that, and then almost as one quite a lot of people bent towards their neighbours to talk about that astounding revelation.

Thanks to the hard school of knocks Cyrus had submitted him to Harry managed to keep a calm face, although everything inside of him screamed to shout out in protest. The time to rectify Molly's unfounded accusations and assumptions would come soon, Anthony would see to that, he just needed to bide his time.

'Did you talk about Mr Potter after your daughter returned to Britain?'

'We had a cup of tea together the Sunday after the promotional party. She told me that she and Harry had come closer ever since she'd returned to England, and that Harry had already asked Daphne for divorce, but that Daphne refused.' Once again her handkerchief had to spring into action. 'She told me she had a secret date with Harry that night, they were going to talk about how to go on with their relationship from then on, since Daphne refused a divorce. We made plans to meet on Tuesday morning for breakfast. It never came to that. Ginny didn't show up. Instead, Arthur and Bill came over and told me that… m… my only daughter was… d… dead!'

She buried her face in her hands, and her loud sobs echoed through the courtroom.

Harry's stomach clenched into a hard knot. No matter how angry he was at Molly for her false statements and half truths, her distress got at him. He would've given anything to be able to turn back time and spare her the loss of yet another child.

He cast a glance at the back of his wife. How was Daphne taking Molly's outburst?

Daphne and Anthony had their heads stuck together, Daphne talked to him in what seemed to be a rather agitated manner. Going by the pinched look on Anthony's face he didn't seem to like what she was saying one bit.

Roper patted Molly's shoulder and then turned to Anthony. 'Your witness.'

Anthony stood up and adjusted his robes. Daphne put her hand on his arm, gave him a determined look and said something in a low voice, to which Anthony reacted with a small, almost resigned nod.

Harry held his breath. What was Daphne scheming that didn't sit well with Anthony?

Anthony turned towards the judge's table. 'Your Honour, against my counsel the defendant doesn't wish to burden Mrs Weasley anymore today and passes on her right to question the witness, we do, however, reserve the right to recall the witness at a later date if clarifying statements are needed. Instead at this time, the defendant would like to address and counteract Mrs Weasley's evidence by recalling Mr Potter back to the stand, as it is permitted by the statute of wizarding law 101A.' He sat down again.

Another wave of excited whispers rolled through the courtroom. Daphne's decision was unusual, to say the least.

Yet, as Harry watched the still sobbing Molly Weasley, and each sob carved another furrow into his heart like a precisely executed Cutting Curse, he couldn't blame Daphne for giving up her right. An interrogation of Molly at this point would have been like kicking a puppy, not to mention that Molly was stubborn, would have dug in her heels and insisted that her spin of the events was right. That could do more harm than good to Daphne's case. Besides, neither Daphne nor he were keen to see Molly in trouble for giving false testimony after all she'd been through.

Again, the panel of judges held a discussion behind Privacy wards. Harry watched them with narrowed eyes. How would Ogden vote this time?

The man didn't seem to have to add much to the discussion, he sat back in his seat and let the others do the talking. As during the last discussions, Susan, Padma and Orphington were on the same line, with Warrington and Smith in opposition. Ogden now seemed to have joined the boat, if the weak nods he gave whenever Warrington spoke were something to go by. So, Carmichael was the man they had to watch.

Warrington talked to him in what seemed to be an agitated manner. Carmichael looked like a thundercloud, his face red and his brows furrowed. At last, he made a short retort that made Warrington shut up, and nodded to Susan.

Susan cancelled the Privacy Ward. 'Motion sustained. Mr Potter, please take a seat in the witness box.'

He stood up and walked to the witness box for a second time that day, his head held high and his jaw set, fully aware of the many sensationalist eyes on him. They probably couldn't wait to hear all the sordid details of the supposed love triangle right from the source. He'd show these morons out there how wrong they were.

He sent a short glance towards the judge's table as he sat down. Warrington regarded Carmichael with an unfathomable expression in his eyes. Was he scheming how to get the man under his influence? Likely. Carmichael, however, showed no signs of being impressed by Warrington's subtle threats. Good for him.

'The prosecution petitions the court to have the witness questioned under -.' Roper interrupted Anthony before he could even ask his first question.

Two could play that game. 'I agree,' Harry said, and suppressed a grin at the sight of a gaping Roper. She didn't seem to have counted on this. Was she really dumb enough to believe Molly's heartbroken diatribe? Well, if she did, she was in for another very nasty surprise, with everything confirmed by Veritaserum.

Anthony waited until the potion had been administered. 'Mr Potter, you heard that Mrs Weasley claimed in front of this court that ten years ago your wife supported her father, the late Cyrus Greengrass, in blackmailing you to break up your relationship with Ginny Weasley and marrying her instead. Mrs Weasley also claimed you actually never ended your relationship with her daughter and continued seeing her in secret. She further claimed you asked your wife for divorce after the death of your father-in-law, so you could marry Ms Ginevra Weasley, thus ultimately giving your wife a motive for killing Ms Ginevra Weasley out of jealousy.'

Anthony made a pause for effect, then asked, 'Mr Potter, are any of these claims true?'

'They aren't true.' Harry's calm voice rang through the courtroom, loud and clear, but he allowed the stilted, potion induced delivery to colour his words. Funny, the Veritaserum seemed to have had little effect on him. Was that due to his meanwhile strong Occlumency shields? Or was it connected to his ability to overcome the Imperius Curse? Whatever, he wouldn't complain.

'Please, tell us in your own words of the events that led up to your marriage with Mrs Potter.'

'In May ninety-eighty I was perfectly happy: the war was over, Voldemort was dead and no constant threat to my life anymore, and I'd got back together with Ginny. It was then when I got an owl from Cyrus Greengrass. He asked me for a meeting, pertaining to the will of my grandfather Fleamont Potter. I was curious, I didn't even know the names of my grandparents back then, so I went to see the man.'

He paused and cast a short side glance at his wife. Her face was calm, but the soft light in her eyes told him she remembered the beginning of their relationship, so full of doubt and fear, as clearly as he did.

'That was the day I found out I was the heir to half of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products. I can't say I was very impressed. Beauty Potions? Come on, I planned on becoming an Auror!'

His delivery may have been somewhat wooden, but the result was still the same. The courtroom broke out into laughter at that admission, even the judges cracked a smile.

'Cyrus, however, had my future planned out for me,' Harry said as soon as the laughter died down. 'He insisted I had to become his successor at Crystal Fairy, and he wanted me to marry his daughter. I took about two seconds to think about his most generous offer. There was no way I'd ever dabble in Beauty Potions, and I already had a girlfriend I thought I loved, so I said no on both accounts.'

He paused, then added in an even drier voice, 'That didn't go over well with Cyrus. He told me he'd cut me off the money from my estate until I either turned thirty or bowed to his wishes, whatever came first. I wasn't inclined to give in, so we parted ways on less than amicable terms that day. I was sure I wouldn't have to deal with him or his daughter, whom I could hardly remember from my Hogwarts days, until I turned thirty, a date in an unfathomable distant future for my seventeen year old self.'

Again, soft laughter rang through the courtroom.

'However, Fate obviously had other plans for me,' Harry said, and gave his wife a quick, sidewards smile. 'A few weeks later I made that agreement with Gringotts that left me without any significant disposable cash reserves until I'd get my first pay as an Auror in September. But that was alright with me, I've never needed much gold. Little did I know, however, that my plans of becoming an Auror would crumble into nothingness because of the obligatory health exam.'

He paused and pressed his lips together to keep more revealing words from stumbling out. Was this a bout of the infamous word-vomit Veritaserum caused? He'd be damned if he let on of the devastation he'd felt when Healer Payne told him the diagnosis in front of the vultures in this courtroom.

'The healer told me I was terminally ill, and that as far as he knew, there was only one way to regain my health: a series of treatments with a very rare and expensive potion regime. He estimated that I would need at least a million Galleons for that. Well, given my recent conversations with Cyrus, I knew I was good for that amount, albeit I didn't have the gold in cash. So I went to Gringotts to get a loan. They refused, said something about they didn't know if I'll still be worth that much on my thirtieth birthday.'

His heart rate sped up and he shifted in his seat. The memories of that day threatened to get at him; he couldn't allow that, he needed to keep his wits about him, for Daphne's sake.

'I tried to come up with other solutions; none of them would have brought the amount of gold I needed, or would have given me access to the gold in the limited time span I had left. It wasn't long before I knew that there was only one solution left: I had to talk to Cyrus and ask him to give me the gold out of my eventual estate, in the full knowledge he'd likely exert his power over me and demand I had to fulfill his wishes, thus forcing me to give up the job I'd wanted to do since I was fifteen, and give up on the girl I thought I loved.'

Nobody spoke a word, the whole courtroom hung at his lips.

'It was the best decision I ever made.' Even with the potion induced monotone he knew this statement would carry weight, not just to the audience but to Daphne too.

There was a second of incredulous silence, then pandemonium broke out as everyone in the courtroom felt the need to discuss this admission with their neighbours.

Harry cast another look at his wife. She gave him one of these special smiles, the ones that were meant only for him, and blew him a kiss, which he returned.

Anthony waited until Susan had restored order in the courtroom. 'Mr Potter, did you continue your relationship with Ginevra Weasley after you had married your wife?'

'No, I didn't. I broke up with Ginny the moment I'd made the decision to follow Cyrus' demand and marry Daphne.' His voice was hard, almost breaking through that stilted delivery.

Again, whispers flared up in the courtroom and were extinguished by the bang of Susan's gavel.

'Please, elaborate that, Mr Potter.'

'Well, I'm not a saint, but it somehow seemed wrong to me to ask the girl I'd dreamt of asking to become my wife to be my mistress instead. I thought too highly of her to submit her to that rather humiliating position. And then there was Daphne.'

He exchanged another smile with his wife. 'Back then, she was a complete stranger to me, yet a stranger who had agreed to go along with Cyrus' scheme and marry me, for whatever reasons of her own. She saved my life in doing so, and I was thankful for that. All I could do to show her my thankfulness was treating her decently and go through the motions of a normal marriage on the outside, so she wouldn't be humiliated by the gossip mongers. My resolution to treat her right was only reinforced during our so-called honeymoon.'

He took a deep breath. 'We never made it public, but Daphne and I spent the first week of our marriage in a hospital room in Paris, where I fought for my life and Daphne supported me on every step of the way. During that week, I was on the brink of death too many times to count, Daphne was literally my lifeline and she held me tethered to this world, bringing me back from the abyss each time. When the week was over, I knew I owed my life to Daphne multiple times. That made me even more determined to do right by Daphne. That week had created a connection between us, when our honeymoon was over, we had become best friends, and I had little doubt we were heading for more. As soon as I got to know Daphne, I fell for her, hard, fast and completely. My feelings for Ginny were a pale imitation to the depth of my feelings for Daphne, nothing more than a teenage crush, compared to what I feel for my wife.'

The fickle audience ah-ed and oh-ed at that. Harry blended them out. His eyes were glued to Daphne's in a silent exchange only they could understand.

The banging of Susan's gavel brought him back to reality. 'Quiet!' she shouted.

Anthony waited once again until the courtroom had become so silent you could have heard the drop of a pin. 'Mr Potter, did you ever ask your wife for divorce?'

'Not once, albeit she offered divorce to me twice.'

This caused another uproar. No matter how often Susan banged her gavel, the audience refused to quieten down. Finally she resorted to another Cannon Blast Spell.

'When was that?' Anthony asked into the strained silence that followed Susan's unorthodox way of keeping order in the courtroom.

'The first time was about four weeks into our marriage. I had found out that Ginny had moved to the U.S.A., everything became too much for me, and I left Daphne without a word and didn't return for another two weeks. I needed that time to get my priorities straight, for although my body had been repaired my head was a mess. However, Daphne got it all wrong. When I returned to her, she offered me divorce. I refused, because … oh, well for a number of reasons.' Once again he pressed his lips together to prevent the potion-induced word-vomit to stumble out. There was no need to tell more in such a public place.

'The second time was after the funeral of our family, when we had to make a decision about how we wanted the company move forward. Daphne was in a very bad place back then, not that I blame her, she lost every member of her family in an instant. This time I simply told her not to be daft, I wouldn't turn away from the best thing that had ever happened to me.'

Again, he turned his head and smiled at Daphne; the whole room faded into the background: only her eyes and her smile mattered.

Anthony turned to Roper. 'Your witness.'

Roper stood up and walked to the witness box, a sneer on her lips. 'Mr Potter, you really have an exceptional talent for heartwarming stories. However, I believe that you left out one tiny tidbit. What about Mrs Weasley's claim that your wife was a willing accomplice in her father's despicable scheme?'

Harry regarded Roper with a cold look. 'I never heard Mrs Weasley making that claim. She speculated about that possibility, but had to admit she didn't know for sure.'

Roper dismissed his objections with a wave of her hand. 'Be that as it may. You, yourself however admitted that your wife went along with her father's plans without any objection.'

'I didn't. That I didn't mention Daphne's reasons for going along with her father's plans doesn't mean she agreed with him. Actually, I have every reason to believe he blackmailed her into cooperating with his scheme, just like he blackmailed me. The first time I met Daphne in Cyrus' office for the signing of the prenup there was an unmistakable tension between her and Cyrus. Later, during our honeymoon, she became bitter and teary whenever Cyrus was mentioned, even though I got the impression that she and Cyrus had been very close previous to our marriage. Astoria and Isabella, Daphne's late sister and mother, confirmed my suspicion with their tales about Daphne's childhood, and how she used to follow her father like a puppy. The tension between Daphne and Cyrus lasted for a long time, it took my wife years into our marriage to make her peace with her father.' His throat was itchy, as if someone had rubbed it with sandpaper from the inside. Merlin, he needed a drink.

Roper pursed her lips, she didn't seem to like his answer at all. 'Alright, then let's talk about you and your feelings for the Greengrass family. I for one, don't find it very believable that you gave in to Cyrus Greengrass' demands without resistance, fell in love with his daughter within the blink of an eye and were best buddies for ever after with the man who _blackmailed you into a relationship_.'

Harry gave a soft chuckle that came out more like a wheezy cough. 'You're right, it wasn't as easy as that, it took Daphne and me considerable time to get to where we are now.' Again, he cast his wife a quick, sidewards smile. 'To address your doubts one after the other: I didn't have much strength left for resistance when I got the diagnosis, so sue me that I caved in pretty quickly. Although maybe it was too soon; had I known Cyrus the way I knew him in later years, I should have realised he'd never have followed through with his threats, he was a hell of a poker player though.' Again, he ignored the laughter and comments to his latest admission.

'Cyrus was a scrupulously honest business man, an incorruptible member of the Wizengamot, as well as a loving and fiercely protective father and husband. He would've done anything for his family literally anything, even if that meant to resort to questionable means like blackmailing his beloved daughter and me, if he thought it was for the best. And here's where there is a snag: he always thought he knew best. He was convinced Daphne and I would be a great match, so he had no qualms to forcing us together with unacceptable means. The other snag? The damned man was nearly always right.'

Once again, people stuck their heads together and whispered. Susan glared at the offenders, and it quickly became quiet.

'Cyrus and I never were best buddies, we butted heads more times than I like to admit.' Harry sighed. 'Yet, I have no doubt that he loved me, and he supported me in every way he could. He was in reality the father I never had.' He lowered his eyes and looked at his hands in his lap. 'I never realised how much he meant to me before he died, and I regret each day since that I never told him.'

A tiny sound, coming from Daphne, made him turn his head. Had it been a sob? Her eyes brimmed with tears, yet she gave him the sweetest smile.

'How touching.,' Roper sneered. 'Do you have an equally heartwarming tale about your relationship with your wife?'

A wave of heat rushed through Harry's body, he jerked his head up, his jaw clenched as he glared at the woman, and his voice was once more his own. 'Many, Madam Director, albeit nothing I'd ever want to share with the likes of you.'

The audience gasped as one.

His eyes bored holes into Roper who seemed to jerk back from him fractionally, her tongue flicked out and over her lips wetting them slightly. Eventually she turned to the table holding the prosecution's evidence and blatantly ignored his outburst to overtly focus on the evidence before her.

She picked up the manila folder, turning back to face him as she opened it in her left hand, and reached into the folder and pulled out a stack of photographs, which she laid out one next to the other in front of him. 'Mr Potter, you claim to have ended your relationship with the victim before your marriage. However, isn't it true that you both agreed to reignite your relationship on that first Christmas after your marriage? Isn't it true you used every opportunity to meet with Ms Weasley, _as these photos of your clandestine meetings show?'_

'No, that is not true.' He allowed the languidness of the potion to affect his voice again, eyeing the photos that had returned with the Unspeakable for the first time.

Before he could ascertain much, Roper gathered the photos together and shoved the stack under his nose. 'Mr Potter, you cannot deny that you met with Ms Weasley every time you visited the U.S.A. under the guise of a business trip! These pictures document your adulterous affair with the victim over a span of at least five years!' She flicked through the pictures one by one and made a large production of showing him, then the judges and the galleries, as though they were irrefutable proof of her statements.

Harry cocked a raised eyebrow at her. 'You made these conclusions from what exactly? The photos? My, Madam Director, I know that we encourage our children to let their imagination run wild, but yours is getting out of hand and leading you off the dragon reserve.'

More gasps rang through the courtroom. He ignored them, sat up very straight, and gave Roper one of these piercing looks that never failed to assert his authority at Crystal Fairy Beauty Products.

'I think it's about time to correct some of the misconceptions you and the public have about my wife and I, thanks to the inane and vacuous reporting by _The Daily Prophet._ '

He made a pause for the effect, it wasn't necessary, every breath in the room was caught waiting for the next words from his lips.

'After I made the decision to marry Daphne, not once have I contemplated continuing my relationship with Ginny other than to attempt a platonic friendship. Ginny, it seems however, was another matter, she refused to leave me alone. The prenup Cyrus made Daphne and mesign stated that we couldn't divorce before we had an heir.'

Roper's eyes flashed up at this, and she sent a calculating look at Daphne.

Harry's stomach twisted, and he barely refrained from covering his face with the palm of his hand. What had he done now? There was no doubt Roper would use that at some point against Daphne.

'When I returned to _The Burrow_ after the signing of the prenup, Ginny sought me out in the orchard where I had gone to have some time for myself, something that's hard to come by in the Weasley household.'

At this, the redheads behind Daphne chuckled to themselves, and even Arthur cracked a smile.

'She wrestled the details of the prenup out of me and had the bright idea to suggest I should divorce Daphne as soon as the heir we had promised to Cyrus was born.'

It became hot in the courtroom, the flash of ire he'd felt that day at Ginny's unfortunate words threatened to overwhelm him once again, and he took a deep breath.

The heat receded. 'That was the first inclination I got that Ginny and I weren't as compatible as I thought. She obviously didn't know me at all if she thought I'll ever leave any child of mine. Yet, that wasn't all. At every opportunity she had, Ginny kept on pestering me to continue our relationship, not only before I married Daphne, but for years to come after that. Not content to just work on me, she also tried to manipulate Daphne into distrusting me. Thank Merlin my wife is too smart to take anything at face value, especially if it came from Ginny, so she never succeeded.'

As he had expected, that statement caused another round of discussions among the audience. While Susan was busy to restore order, he cast a look at Molly and Arthur.

Molly looked at him with narrowed eyes, her face flushed and the brows of her eyes squished together. There was no doubt she didn't believe a word he'd said. Arthur, on the other hand, had slumped back in his seat and his eyes averted, albeit his hand still held Molly's. If Greco was right, he knew more about Ginny's machianations than he'd ever let on.

Roper gave him a look full of malice. 'I'm afraid this summary vilification of the good reputation of a dead woman won't do, Mr Potter. You'll have to elaborate your claims - if you can!'

Warmth rushed through his body, and he barely resisted from rubbing his hands. Roper had given him the opening he needed to tear apart the sappy picture Skeeter had created about Ginny and him, and to which Molly had lend credence with her statement.

'Oh, I can,' he said, and let his words shift back to a monotone as if he'd once again been overcome by the effects of the Veritaserum. 'What do you want to know? What about how Ginny intercepted me in the park of _The Rectory_ when I was on my way to exchange my vows with Daphne and Ginny suggested I should make her my mistress?' He didn't heed the audible gasp that came from Molly and pressed on. 'Or how about later that day, when she cornered Daphne as she went up to her room to get ready for our honeymoon, and tried to make Daphne believe I'd never really give up on Ginny?'

'Were you present during that talk, Mr Potter?' Roper fired her question when he had to draw a breath.

Damn the woman. 'No, I wasn't. Daphne told me later.'

'Well, then that's hearsay, Mr Potter, please stick to the facts you witnessed.'

'It continued when we saw each other again for the first time after my marriage on Christmas that year. Weasley family get-togethers are always a rather boisterous and somewhat crowded affair. We'd had a huge Christmas dinner, and I'd eaten way too much and felt rather drowsy. We got together in the family room after that, twelve people in a small room with a roaring fire in the fireplace. It didn't take long and I had a headache coming on and felt suffocated, so I left the room for some fresh air. When I walked towards the orchard, Ginny caught up with me. Once again she tried to persuade me to make her my mistress, only by then I'd already let go of my feelings for Ginny, so I declined, albeit I tried to be gentle about it. She tried to feed me some nonsense that she'd never stopped loving me. Well, by then I'd come a long way from the naïve boy I'd still been when I first met Cyrus, and I'd found out about the affair she'd had going on at Hogwarts with the man who would later become her agent during the time I was on the run, so I wasn't inclined to even slightly believe her assertions, and told her so. Our little encounter ended when she threw her arms around me, wanting to kiss me, and I disentangled myself from her and walked away.'

He drew another deep breath. 'I was furious, and I didn't want to spoil Christmas Day for the Weasleys because of Ginny's actions, so I took a short walk outside of the premises of _The Burrow._ Daphne found me there a few minutes later. She was also distraught, she'd seen part of my conversation with Ginny from the kitchen window, but hadn't stayed long enough to see the outcome. Ginny then had tried to manipulate her into believing I'd asked Ginny to become my mistress that day. Thank Merlin that my wife is a rationally thinking Slytherin through and through, so she didn't take long to figure out that Ginny's story didn't add up. By that time we'd both decided we'd had enough of Ginny that day and left under the pretext of Daphne not feeling well.' The latter statement wasn't entirely true, yet close enough to the truth that he could overcome the Veritaserum. He'd be damned if he told the sensationalist public what had happened between Daphne and him that day.

'Again, Mr Potter: were you present during the talk between the accused and Ms Weasley?'

'No, Daphne told me about that.'

Roper sneered. 'I'll ask you once more, stick to the facts, Mr Potter. As interesting as this episode might be, it happened about five years before the first of these pictures were taken, if my estimation is correct. You didn't visit the U.S.A. before you finished your studies and had to travel for your company.'

So, for once Roper had done her homework. 'That's correct.'

A smirk flickered across Roper's face, and she looked at him down her nose. 'Well, Mr Potter, it obviously appears like you changed your mind about your relationship with Ms Weasley in those later years, these photos are proof of that.' She waved the stack of photos still in her hand.

'No, they aren't. Did you even once take a closer look at these photos, Madam Director? Given the direction of your questioning, I doubt it, or you would have noticed that they have all been taken in public places.'

'So, you deny you met Ms Weasley for clandestine dinners?'

Harry rolled his eyes and smirked at her. 'I don't deny I had dinner with Ginny a couple of times when I was in New York. However, there was nothing clandestine about them. Ginny had an uncanny ability to turn up at official events whenever I was in the U.S.A., and she'd always suggest that we have dinner together. I agreed to that a couple of times, firstly, because she was still a friend, albeit a distant one, and I didn't want to publicly snub her, secondly, out of respect for Arthur and Molly, and thirdly to show her that it was of no use trying to rekindle our relationship. At that first dinner it was obvious that we had almost nothing in common anymore, except for some shared memories and old friends. We ran out of topics to talk about within five minutes each time we met. I hoped she eventually would get the hint and move on.'

Roper looked as if she'd sucked on a lemon. However, she recovered soon.

'Let's talk about Ms Weasley's return to England. Isn't it true you made plans with Ms Weasley about her return?'

'No, that isn't true. The first I heard of her return was at the Veterans Ball, when Ron told me.'

Roper raised a sceptical eyebrow. 'Isn't it true you sought Ms Weasley out at Veterans Ball?'

'Most definitely not. It was like every other time, the other way round. She manipulated me into that unfortunate dance with her. I had the choice of letting her make a scene on the dance floor or comply with her machinations and deal with the consequences later.' Harry raised his hand and rubbed his face. 'I didn't count on _The Daily Prophet_ making such a cock-and-bull-story out of that incident, and I'll forever regret that my innocent wife has to bear the brunt of my foolishness. The D.M.L.E. never would've thought of accusing her, hadn't it been for all the lies about Ginny and me.'

'What about your date with Ms Weasley for Sunday after the promotional party? After all, Ms Weasley told her mother about it, so it has to be true.'

'Merlin, no. I have no idea why Ginny told her mother that lie, for a lie it was. I never made plans for a date with Ginny. Daphne wasn't feeling well that day, I didn't leave the premises of _The Rectory_ at all.'

'Did you at anytime meet Ms Weasley between the promotional party and the discovery of her death?'

Harry's stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. Merlin, he didn't want anyone to find out about his last talk to Ginny, least of all her family. However, the Veritaserum was still in theory working, and so he opened his mouth. 'I stumbled across her on my way from the Chamber of Commerce to the headquarters of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products on Monday around lunch time.'

The reaction of the audience confirmed his doubts about the wisdom of letting that encounter become public. People stuck their heads together and whispered, and many sent doubtful glances his way.

'And what was your reaction to that meeting?'

'I wasn't thrilled, that much is sure, especially since Ginny acted as if I was her long lost love and attempted to glue herself to me. I had my hands full to try and make her keep her distance. She was making a damned nuisance out of herself, and I was getting tired of her games, so I decided to put an end to them once and for all. I bought us some take-away and led her to a bench in a small park nearby, a very public park bench I might add. Over lunch I told her in no uncertain terms that I wasn't interested.'

The noise level in the courtroom flared up.

'You're lying. You know that you and my Ginny were destined for each other!' Molly's voice rose above the cacophony of noises. For a split second, the talking died down, only to set in with renewed vigor.

Susan banged her gavel. 'Quiet!'

Harry rolled his eyes at Molly. 'Not you, too. I've had enough of that from Ginny during our talk in the park. Please, spare me that nonsense about Potter men and redheads. For the record, my grandfather had black hair that my father inherited, where do you think this comes from?' he asked, pointing to his own black hair, 'It certainly wasn't my grandmother who by all reports had sandy brown hair,' he near growled before he turned back to Roper. 'To make a long story short, it didn't take long, before Ginny and I fought. I confronted her with the fact that I knew she'd been cheating on me while she was my girlfriend after the war, and -'

His voice was drowned out by the uproar in the courtroom.

'Liar!' Molly screamed over the hubbub. She'd sprung up from her seat, her fists balled and her face an unhealthy shade of red. Arthur got to his feet, too. He put his arm around her, said something to her and tried to get her to sit down again. She shook him off and kept glaring at Harry.

For the fourth time that day, a Cannon Blast Spell thundered through the courtroom. 'Mrs Weasley, sit down, please, or I'll have you removed from the courtroom,' Susan said into the silence that followed.

With a last withering look at Harry Molly sat down, and Susan motioned to Roper to continue the questioning.

A wave of fatigue flooded through him, his arms and legs became leaden, and his head seemed to be too heavy to carry it on his shoulders any longer. With a small groan, he bent forward, propped his elbows on his knees and buried his head in the palms of his hands.

'Mr Potter, are you feeling unwell?'

He raised his head and gave Susan a weak smile. 'I'm fine.'

A chorus of snorts came from the area where his friends sat, and Daphne rolled her eyes at him.

'No, you're not,' she mouthed and looked at her watch.

'I might feel some slight adverse reaction to Veritaserum,' he told Susan.

She nodded and looked at her watch. 'That's not uncommon, you've been under the effects for quite a while now. The prosecution is advised to close the questioning within the next five minutes, or we'll have to adjourn the hearing of Mr Potter testimony until he's had some time to recover.'

Harry held up his hand. 'I'll finish this today.' His jaw clenched, and he gave Roper a hard stare. 'As I said before I was so rudely interrupted, Ginny cheated on me while we were together after the war. I accused her of being a gold-digger, while she acted like some sort of damsel in distress. At last, however, she admitted she never saw me as a human being, but as The-Boy-Who-Lived, and her ticket to fame and wealth, and I told her that I never wanted to see her again.'

He looked down at his hands in his lap and let out a harsh laugh that echoed through the silent courtroom. 'Well, I got my wish, didn't I. By the next morning she was dead.'

Every eye in the room was on him, and nobody said a word. Even Roper seemed to have lost the ability of speech as she gaped at him for a long moment. 'No more questions,' she said at last.

Harry waited until the court clerk administered the antidote, stood up and left the witness box on unsteady legs. Halfway towards his seat he paused in front of Daphne and Anthony, leaned forward and kissed his wife's brow, then walked on towards his seat, all eyes in the room directed on him.

'Madam Roper, according to the docket you didn't name any more witnesses. Am I to take it that the prosecution's case is closed?' Susan's voice sounded like thunder in the quiet room.

Roper looked up to her as if awakening from a bad dream. 'Yes, Your Honour, the prosecution rests.'

'The case of Magical Britain against Daphne Isabella Potter is hereby adjourned,' Susan said with another bang of her gavel. 'The court will meet again on Wednesday, the fourth of June, to hear the case of the defence.'

As soon as Susan banged her gavel for the last time, Harry shot to his feet and closed the short distance to Daphne's seat with two long strides. He pulled her up and slung his arms around her, his face buried in her hair. Thank Merlin this day was over, and if he wasn't mistaken, the defence had made an impact.

Daphne clung to him for a long time, as if she needed to draw the strength to walk out of the courtroom from him, which was probably true. This day couldn't have been easy for her.

They were barely aware of the whooshing sound of the many flashlights around them while they took their time to recover from the nightmare they'd been through.

* * *

 _ **The Rectory, June 2nd 2008**_

Harry sat down at the desk in Cyrus' former office with a heavy sigh. The day had been trying, to say the least.

Daphne's face had been ashen when they arrived at _The Rectory,_ and he had insisted on calling Healer Payne. The healer had taken one look at Daphne and confined her to bed until Wednesday morning. Daphne didn't protest, a sure sign how worn out she was, and he had stayed by her bedside until she had fallen asleep, which thankfully didn't take long.

He'd gone back to his self-imposed task of examining Cyrus' files for a hint of the one behind the assassinations against Daphne and him, something he'd done each night when Daphne was asleep ever since this possible lead dawned on him. Even though Ron had sent him his Patronus during dinner and informed him about Lucius Malfoy's death and Draco's arrest, he didn't agree with his best friend's assessment that the Malfoys were the driving force behind the assassinations and that the threat was now over. He couldn't put his finger on it, but his gut told him there was more to it.

He'd already finished the first cabinet, "A to F" and started with the one "G to L".

The name on the fifth folder he pulled out made him pause. Greengrass, Dorian, Cyrus' estranged brother. He looked at the folder with a sinking feeling in his stomach. What can of worms was hidden between the plain cardboard? He pressed his lips together and sat a little straighter. Whatever it was, he had to know, for Daphne's sake. With a deep breath he opened the folder.

The oldest sheet of parchment was a letter from Dorian to his father, written in nineteen-seventy-six, and informing him of his arrival in the U.S.A., his marriage to a young witch from Salem and that he'd taken on her family name, albeit he not once mentioned the name of his bride. Nothing in the folder indicated that Albion Greengrass had ever answered the letter of the son he had cast out for joining Voldemort.

The next letter came almost four years later, in February nineteen-eighty, already addressed to Cyrus. Dorian demanded his share of the Greengrass fortune in this letter, and was not above threatening his older brother. _Rumour says your pretty young wife will be presenting you with the heir to the Greengrass name in summer,_ Dorian wrote. _Congratulations, brother. It would be a pity if something happened to her and the baby, wouldn't it? I suggest that you consider my suggestion most seriously._

Harry lowered the folder onto the desk. The baby Dorian threatened in his letter had been Daphne. What a sick bastard! He clenched his teeth and went on with the examination of the folder.

Cyrus had refused Dorian's claims with a scathing letter of his own, a copy of which he had obviously placed in the file. Harry let out a low whistle, his father in law already had been a formidable opponent back then, he would've thought twice before attempting to cross him after having received such a letter.

Apparently, Dorian had agreed with Harry's assessment on that, as there were no more letters from him to his older brother. However, how he had taken Cyrus' refusal to give Dorian what he considered his? It was a pity that there was no way to tell.

Greco's report about Dorian's involvement and subsequent death in the Battle of Hogwarts came next. In his report Greco mentioned that a young man with an American accent had claimed the body. Was it Alexander Carrington? Most likely.

Harry leaned back in his seat, lost in his thoughts. How would he have felt, had he had to claim his father's dead body after a devastating defeat of the tyrant he had been raised to follow, given the beliefs of his parents? Also, had Daphne's unknown cousin been raised in the belief that his father's family withheld his inheritance? Had Alexander Carrington turned bitter and revengeful because of all of this?

He closed the folder with a deep sigh, pulled a piece of parchment towards him and picked up a quill. They didn't know, but it was a theory worth investigating when Greco had his talk to Carrington the next day.

 _t.b.c._


	99. Chapter 96

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Sorry for the long wait. The last chapter apparently froze my brain, I needed some time to get back into writing mood. However, don't expect a quick update after this one, the chapter I'm currently writing on already turned out to be another monster.

As always, thousand thanks and kudos to my patient editor extraordinaire Shygui. I have no idea why he still puts up with me. You rock, my friend!

Chapter **96** only, 16/07/19

* * *

 **96**

 _ **Nicolas Greco's house, June 3rd 1998**_

Nicholas Greco was partaking in his second cup of tea that morning, together with _The Daily Prophet._ His International Portkey to Paris was ready and waiting for him on his desk, it was due to leave in an hour. Time enough for him to read what new lies one Rita Skeeter had cooked up about the Potter case today.

He turned a page of the newspaper and sighed. Even though Mr Potter had presented the court with the evidence that he'd never been under the influence of mind-altering substances, Skeeter still claimed his wife had somehow held him under control by Love Potions. Skeeter also dismissed Goldsteins's masterful counters of the points of Roper's case as mere technicalities that would never be enough to get a "not guilty" verdict.

Greco pursed his lips. The grims would already be circling what they thought was the rotted corpse of the Potter influence because of this article. The defence hadn't presented their case yet, so there was still hope that Skeeter would have to eat her words when all this was over, he hoped the witch with a "B" liked the taste of humble pie.

Even though, today was a recess day in Mrs Potter's trial, and was a time the defence would use to evaluate the case of the prosecution and make some last changes and amendments to their own case because of the points the prosecution had brought up. He looked at his watch absently, Goldstein would already be working with Mrs Potter at _The Rectory,_ while Mr Potter was looking through Cyrus Greengrass' old files; anything else that Harry found would likely come across his desk so he'd better be ready for that, too.

The young man had a good head on his shoulders and had instincts that would have made him a good Auror, had he chosen that path. He thought of the letter Mr Potter had sent him last night, he agreed with Mr Potter, this case was somehow intermixed with events from the past and Greengrass family history, although he still couldn't see the larger connections that he felt had to exist. Specifically how did Lucius Malfoy and his whelp fit into the mix? The death of the first and the arrest of the latter had been the other headline news of the day.

He took a deep breath and let go that chain of thought. From long experience he knew there was no use trying to force anything that was just out of his mental reach, he had to let his subconscious work on it and the answer would present itself in its own time - hopefully it would be soon enough to prevent Mrs Potter from being sent to Azkaban.

Albeit he doubted it would come to that. He and the Goblins of Gringotts had finished their investigations in Ginny Weasley's estate and the possible connections to Zabini and his mob family very late last night - hence his second cup of tea already this morning, and he'd sent his findings on to Goldstein immediately. Despite the late hour the man probably had danced a jig when he read his letter.

* * *

 _ **Paris, June 3rd 2008**_

One hour later he found himself transported from a grey Norfolk day towards sunny Lutétia, the magical part of Paris, in front of a narrow, tall house. He'd already pulled the bell twice, yet nobody had come to answer the door. He took one step back and looked at the foreboding front of the house. All the shutters, painted an inky black, were closed. Was the house occupied at all? Had his source been wrong for the first time in a long time?

He had just about decided to turn and walk away when the tall, black door opened a crack. The bulbous, tennis-ball-sized eye of an elf peered at him. 'How mays Seedy helps sir?'

'Is Mr Carrington at home? I'd like to talk to him if he can spare a few minutes.'

The elf retreated, but left the door open. It lazily swung inside, widening the crack, and gave him a clear view of the elf walking down a long hallway towards another tall door, this one inlaid with an opaque glass panel. The silhouette of a human figure was barely visible through the glass.

The human figure opened the glass door for a small crack, but didn't come out. The elf had a hushed conversation with whoever was behind the door, then turned around and came back to Greco.

Something in the posture of the small creature was off, it carried its shoulder and arm in a strange way, as if they were stiff.

Nicholas drew in a sharp breath, he'd seen an elf with a similar injury not so long ago, but where? Angry with himself he shook his head. His power of observation was still strong, but his memory was beginning to desert him, maybe it was time to think about retirement or an apprentice.

The elf had reached him. 'Master bes sorry, master's health do not permit to receive visitors,' the small creature twittered, shuffling its feet, then shut the door in Nicholas' face so quick he had to step back not to be caught between the door leaf and the door jamb.

He blinked, stared at the door for several moments, fixing the elf firmly in his mind, before he stepped back into the narrow alley. So, Alexander Carrington didn't want to talk to him. That wasn't exactly surprising, given how reclusive the man was rumoured to be, but also led to the interesting question of was he was hiding something. Nicholas looked around, there was a small bistro only two houses away from Carrington's house, but on the opposite side of the street.

A smile flickered across his face. That was just the place he needed to interrogate the locals about the elusive Mr Carrington, without them noticing, of course.

Fifteen minutes later he sat at the bar, a milky-white mixture of _Pastis_ and iced water in front of him, and had an amicable chat with the bartender and a few regular patrons. Another two hours, a few rounds of that devilish brew and a spinning head later, he'd found out that none of his neighbours had ever seen the reclusive Mr Alexander Carrington.

'It's as if he doesn't live here at all,' one had said.

A toothless old man with grey bristles in his face had dismissed that with a wave of his hand. 'You're wrong, _andouille,_ he's a vampire, I tell you, and only comes out at night!'

That had led to an animated discussion among the patrons of the bar, and Nicholas had used the opportunity to take his leave. The little he knew of Alexander Carrington made it unlikely that he'd got involved with vampires. It was more likely he'd set up the house in Paris as a ruse to distract any prying eyes from his real whereabouts, wherever that was.

Although it was unusual, to say the least, it wasn't exactly unheard of, however, usually the type of people that employed this ruse had an easily identifiable reason for it. Nicholas' stomach churned not only from too much alcohol as he thought of the possible motives for such a move on Carrington's side.

He didn't like it one bit. His gut signalled danger and that this house hid far more than he could fathom at this time, but he'd be damned if he knew from which direction the danger was coming or what Carrington was hiding.

* * *

 _ **The Rectory, June 3rd 2008**_

A Sobering-Up Potion, provided by his amused wife, and a short nap had him alert enough for the last meeting with Goldstein and Mr Potter in the late afternoon. For once Mrs Potter didn't join them.

Mr Potter excused her. 'Healer Payne confined Daphne to bedrest, all this stress isn't good for her or the baby.' A shadow flickered across his face. 'Anthony had a last talk to Daphne this afternoon, and I think she's far calmer and ready for tomorrow, given the good news he brought.'

Nicholas glanced at Goldstein with raised eyebrows. 'Is that so?

Goldstein nodded. 'I got the result of the examination of the condom today. It's just as we expected: they match with the DNA samples we tricked Williams into providing. I can't wait to have the bastard in the witness box.I think he was the one that likely killed Ginny in a fit of jealousy when her other lover turned up.'

He rubbed his hand with an evil grin. 'I've also had a good look at the final autopsy report. As we suspected Ginny wasn't killed by a Blasting Hex, her chest showed no evidence of being impacted by the force of such a strong spell. She had a small bump at the back of her head that might have been caused by Daphne dropping her in the entrance hall of the house.' His face sobered. 'She didn't, however, have an easy death, she was throttled to death, and the scratch marks on her throat indicated she fought for her life. She even might have been successful, hadn't she been under pain relief potions. The dose she'd taken was likely enough to eventually knock out a troll, the report states.'

Nicholas thought about that for a moment, then asked, 'Any other DNA available, like under her fingernails?'

Goldstein nodded again. 'Yes, however they still haven't managed to separate her DNA from what they found under her fingernails, but they are working on it, no ETA on it though, and no guarantee that it will be possible.'

Mr Potter's face became grim. 'Let's hope the results will come back tomorrow morning. I agree with Anthony, I have no doubt they'll match Williams' DNA. Ginny didn't deserve a death like that, no matter how much she got on my nerves. I hope you'll nail the bastard to the wall tomorrow, Anthony.'

'You can count on me, Harry,' Goldstein said.

 _t.b.c._


	100. Chapter 97

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** A very big thank you to my fabulous beta Shygui, who puts up with me as I muddle my way through the last chapters of this story, and who still has an open eye for little details I forgot and that would make the story inconsistent. You rock!

Those of you who review regularly know that I like to give individual responses. However, time has been scarce lately, so I skipped out for the last two chapters already. Sorry! :( I hope to catch up with you during my holidays. As it is, I had to cut the time for writing this chapter out of my ribs.

Chapter **97** only, 16/08/19, but 13k+ words, so I hope you're satisfied. ;)

* * *

 **97**

 _ **The Ministry of Magic, June 4th 2008**_

Harry's stomach roiled as he re-entered level ten with Daphne on Wednesday morning; at least it was time for them to go on the offensive as Anthony would start presenting the defences case. The corridor in front of the courtroom was again crowded, and they braced themselves for the expected barrage of hostile insults hurled at Daphne, although they had noticeably decreased, compared to the first day of the trial. Could it be the revelations brought to light thus far had people thinking, at least a few of them?

He tightened his grip around his wife's shoulders and led her into the comparatively quiet haven of the warded off area in front of the courtroom. The witnesses Anthony had summoned for that day were already there: an Unspeakable, his face obscured by the hood of his robes, Dean Thomas, their old friend Raymond from Crystal Fairy, and Williams and Zabini. The other witnesses, namely Greco and Arthur Weasley, would attend the trial, anyway. It was quite a number, but Anthony had told them yesterday he'd not yet made up his mind if it was going to be necessary to hear all the witnesses, he'd play it by ear, depending on how the case developed and what sleight of hand Roper tried to pull.

Harry let out a pent up breath at the sight of Zabini. He'd half expected that Zabini would refuse to appear and make a run for it. He was a Pureblood, after all, it was likely he knew that a place like _Stinchcombe Hall_ had house elves who sensed the coming and going of everyone in that place and would tell their owner if asked. From the corner of his eye he watched the dark-skinned man sitting on the bench next to the door of the courtroom, his legs crossed, a bored expression on his face, and his expensive robes of Acromantula silk impeccable. Nothing in his posture betrayed that he suspected they knew he had been there around the time Ginny died.

Was this a good sign or a bad? The palms of his hands became moist. Could Ginny's lover really be that calm if he'd found Ginny's dead body that day, or, even worse, had killed her himself? What if they'd drawn the wrong conclusions and the visitor in the morning hadn't been Zabini? Or was he just like all Purebloods, and the thought that a house elf might give him away never occurred to him?

The arrival of the Weasley clan interrupted his thoughts, seconds later the doors to the courtroom opened, and like two days before he led Daphne to her place and then sat down right behind her, in the space next to Justin and Lisa.

Susan opened the trial, and Anthony stood up.

'Your Honours, today the defence is going to prove beyond all doubt that Daphne Isabelle Potter didn't kill Ginevra Weasley. We're going to prove that at the time of Ms Weasley's death the accused was still sound asleep in her home. We're also going to prove that contrary to the claims of the prosecution the accused never used a Blasting Hex on the victim. Lastly, we're going to prove the victim had at least two visitors _after_ the accused left, and both of them had a motive to kill the victim.'

The noise level in the courtroom rose sharply at his last words.

Harry cast a surreptitious look at Williams and Zabini.

Williams had a slight sheen of sweat on his upper lip, and he squirmed in his seat. Zabini, however, still looked calm, bored even.

Anthony moved back to his desk, picked up a sheet of parchment, and turned to the judge's table. 'Your Honours, this is the point when the accused is supposed to offer her statement under Veritaserum to refute the claims of the prosecution. Unfortunately, this is not practicable for the accused in this case, due to her condition.' He held out the sheet of parchment for Susan to take it. 'The defence introduces piece of evidence D two, a written and sealed statement from Mrs Potter's healer at St Mungo's that she's not able to take Veritaserum, due to her pregnancy.'

That caused an uproar in the courtroom. Susan banged her gavel to no effect, while Roper screamed over the hubbub, 'The accused planned it that way to avoid a statement under Veritaserum.'

'Objection!' Anthony's thundering voice quieted down the audience. 'Once again the prosecution is relying solely on conjecture.'

'Objection sustained,' Susan said. 'Madam Roper, you've been warned before, repeatedly actually. The next time you interrupt the defence with an irrational or spurious objection the court will fine you one hundred Galleons for contempt of court, any repeat performances after that will result in each fine escalating, do I make myself clear?'

Shouts of protest rang through the courtroom, while Roper turned crimson and nodded once.

'The same goes for every heckler in the visitors gallery, do not push me on this, you will not like the outcome,' Susan said in a stern voice and banged her gavel.

The angry voices died down, even though a lot of dark looks were still cast at Susan. She didn't pay them any heed, neither did she react to Warrington's repeated clearing of his throat to catch her attention, and turned to Daphne. 'Mrs Potter, even though your decision is understandable, your refusal to give your statement under Veritaserum has to be counted against you by the court, according to the rules of procedure for criminal trials.'

Daphne stood up to speak in this trial for the first time. 'Your Honour, I'm well aware of the repercussions of my decision. However, I've longed for too many years to count to have a baby, and there's no way I'm going to endanger my child by taking a potion this early in my pregnancy. If that means endangering my case, so mote it be.'

Her words rang through the silent courtroom; she turned her head and gave Harry a short loving smile over her shoulder.

His heart swelled with love and pride for his wife until he thought he'd burst, and he couldn't help but reciprocate her smile with a broad one of his own, which caused a lot of whispers in the courtroom.

Daphne turned back to Susan. 'That notwithstanding, I'm prepared to give my statement today and confirm it with an oath on my magic.'

'As is within the law,' Susan said with a nod and motioned Daphne to take a seat in the witness box.

Daphne held out her hand to Anthony. 'Your wand, please.'

Anthony gave her his wand.

She grasped it in both hands and held it upright. 'I, Daphne Isabella Potter, swear on my magic that every word of the statement I will give today in front of this court is true. So mote it be.' Silvery mist shot out of the tip of Anthony's wand and surrounded her for a moment.

The courtroom became dead silent.

Anthony waited until Daphne had sat down. 'Mrs Potter, did you kill Ginevra Molly Weasley?'

'No, I didn't.'

Daphne's steady voice rang through the courtroom loud and clear.

Excited murmurs of the audience followed and died down when Anthony opened his mouth to ask his next question.

'Mrs Potter, will you tell us with your own words about your relationship with the late Ms Weasley?'

Daphne took a deep breath and nodded. 'Ginny was the ex-girlfriend of my husband, he broke up with her to marry me. That made us something akin to natural enemies, I guess. As a result, Ginny never missed an opportunity trying to mess around with Harry's and my marriage. She -'

Molly Weasley's furious voice interrupted her. 'This is a damned lie, you bitch!' She had sprung to her feet, her face crimson, and her wand at the ready to hex Daphne into oblivion.

Arthur grabbed her arm, pulled her back to her seat and yanked the wand out of her grasp, all the while talking to her in a hushed voice.

Behind Harry, Bill and Ron sighed.

'This isn't going to end well,' Justin muttered to no-one in particular.

Harry grimaced, caught his friend's eye and nodded before he returned his attention to Molly and Arthur. It seemed Arthur had things well in hand, Molly showed no signs that she was going to interfere any further with Daphne's statement, even though she still looked like she wanted Daphne to be incinerated on the spot.

Daphne didn't so much as flinch under her glare. Instead, she met Molly's furious eyes with a lot of compassion in her own. 'I wish it was.' She sighed. 'It started on my wedding day. I'd gone up to my room to change out of my wedding dress, and she followed me and told me I'd never have a chance with Harry. I'll remember her words as long as I live, there was a perverted sort of truth to them. Because of my insecurities about Harry's and my situation back then they had a strong impact on me and almost destroyed my marriage right from the beginning.'

Her eyes never turned away from Molly. 'Whenever he touches you, whenever he kisses you, and whenever he sleeps with you he'll be thinking of me, those were her words. She said them with such conviction and passion that young and naïve as I was, I believed her, at least at first I did.'

A round of murmurs went through the courtroom, yet this time Daphne got a lot of sympathetic looks, especially from the women present.

'Harry and I became close soon after our marriage, yet I didn't dare to believe in the sincerity of his feelings for me because of Ginny's cruel taunts on our wedding day. It stayed like that until our first Christmas together. Harry and I spent Christmas Day with the Weasleys. We'd already arrived at _The Burrow_ when we heard that Ginny was also there, with her new husband, the first of quite a number to follow. She lost no time trying to manipulate me once again. At one point after dinner Harry left the room, and Ginny followed him. Hermione urged me to go after them, to mark my territory, so to speak. However, I'd been brought up in the old Pureblood tradition that teaches the girls to look the other way when their husbands are… indiscreet, so I knew the game wasn't supposed to be played that way. Still, I left the room to get away from Hermione and her… well, nagging.' Daphne mouthed an apology to Hermione, picked up the glass next to her elbow and took a sip of water.

Almost all of their friends sniggered at that, and Padma and Susan shared a short side glance, while the corners of their mouths twitched.

'I walked into the kitchen just in time to see through the window how Ginny made a move on my husband. Suffice to say I didn't want to see more and turned around. Ginny came back into the kitchen a few moments later. She realised I'd seen her together with Harry and more or less told me she was Harry's mistress. At first, I believed her and went out of the house for a walk to calm down. After a few minutes I met Harry, he seemed to be troubled and agitated, which confirmed Ginny's claim. He noticed that something was wrong with me; in spite of his own troubles he was so sweet and caring towards me, and all of a sudden I realised that Ginny once again had tried to manipulate me again, and for the first time, it also occured to me that she was also trying to manipulate him as well. That day I made the decision to trust my husband until he proved unworthy of that trust. He never gave me reason to regret my decision.'

She turned her head and gave Harry one of these private smiles that were reserved for him, and his heart swelled until it felt as if it would burst out of his chest. Merlin, what had he done to deserve her? She was far too good for him, that much was sure.

Daphne focussed back on the judges in front of her. 'That was the last time I saw Ginny until the Veterans Ball. I can't say I was unhappy about that, and I have every reason to believe Harry shared my sentiment.'

He couldn't stop himself, he had to nod at that. The judges noticed his reaction with raised eyebrows, whereas the audience once again resorted to whispers and hisses. Molly Weasley, however, looked at him with big, reproachful eyes, as if he had betrayed her.

'Let's jump to the night of the Veterans Ball, Mrs Potter. What happened there between you and Ms Weasley?' Anthony asked over the ongoing whispers.

Daphne sighed and pushed a strand of hair away from her face. 'We had barely arrived when Hermione told us that Ginny had returned to England and was also there that night. I had no illusions about what was going to happen next: she'd be all over Harry the second she saw him. As the female guest of honour, she was at our table. Dinner was uncomfortable, to say the least. Ginny alternated between trying to bewitch Harry and sending death glares at me. It didn't turn out as she had planned.' A small, yet triumphant smile appeared around her mouth. 'Harry wasn't at all inclined to play along, and apart from offering her a greeting, essentially ignored her.'

Once again, the excited whispers of the audience interrupted Daphne's statement.

'You can't really blame them after all these lies in the _Daily Prophet,'_ Hermione said behind Harry. Someone, most likely Ron, grunted in response..

A sharp look from Susan was enough to restore order in the courtroom, apparently her threat from the beginning of the trial this morning was still at the forefront of most people's minds, very few wizards or witches had hundred Galleons to spare for fines.

'Ginny got her moment of triumph when the dancing began. She somehow manipulated Harry into dancing the couple's dance with her, and had every intention to monopolise him for the rest of the night. Again, Harry didn't act as she expected. He slipped away and asked me to join him for a walk in the gardens.'

She cast him a short, sweet smile, and the corners of his mouth turned up in response.

Daphne returned her eyes to the panel of judges. 'Harry is a person of public interest, so he and by extension I, live under the magnifying glass created by the curiosity of the wizarding world. We made a pact right at the beginning of our marriage that we'd never air our dirty laundry in the open. Harry knew I was irritated by his behaviour, which was completely out of character for him, I might add, and used the first opportunity he got to explain his actions and clear the air between us in private.' She let out a mirthless chuckle. 'In hindsight, it's rather hilarious, albeit I didn't think of it like that when it happened. Ginny tried to make her way back to Harry, he saw her coming, so he grabbed my hand, and we literally ran away from her.'

Laughter rang through the courtroom.

'When Harry and I returned to the ballroom, Ginny waylaid us once more. Harry chased her away with a scathing remark. Of course, Ginny put the blame for that on me. When we passed her, she told me she'd get back at me for that. Despite that, she kept away from Harry for the rest of the night. I thought I'd seen the last of her that night, but unfortunately I was wrong.' She took a deep breath.

'We literally ran into each other at the door of the lady's room. The moment she recognised me, she glared at me, stepped into my personal space and said, _I warned you to stay away from what isn't yours, Greengrass._ '

She paused and grimaced. 'I'm not proud of my reaction to that. However, she provoked me and I was not feeling well that night, so I reacted in a much harsher manner to her taunts than was strictly necessary. I told her she was delusional, she wasn't in the position to keep me away from my husband, and that Harry hadn't been hers since the day he broke up with her. To really drive my point home, I grabbed her by the upper arms. Hard. I'm ashamed to admit my fingernails dug marks into her flesh, and I enjoyed it, I was so angry, this woman had been trying to undermine my marriage since it began and I'd had enough. I bent towards her and told her to stay away from my husband, or it would be the last thing she did.'

The audience broke out into gasps and loud exclamations, the reporters in the courtroom almost scribbled their fingers off, and a smile of triumph appeared on Roper's face.

Harry let out a deep sigh. The reaction to Daphne's admission was understandable. How he wished she didn't have to admit to that moment of weakness! There was no saying how the panel of judges would take it when they had to make their final vote. Yet, there was no way around it, Daphne had taken a magical oath to tell the truth in front of the court. Any attempt of circumvention might have disastrous results neither of them did want to find out.

'What did you mean by that?' Anthony asked when Susan had restored order.

Daphne gave a rather unladylike and helpless shrug with her shoulder. 'Honestly, I have no idea. At that moment, I just wanted to scare her away from Harry. Truthfully I would've probably been happy to leave some scratch marks on her face, too, I remember that I thought about that, but I managed to get a grip on myself before it elevated into a cat fight.'

'Let's skip to the alleged day of Ms Weasley's death, Mrs Potter,' Anthony said moving across the room casually as if this was just a friendly chat between friends. 'We already heard the prosecution claims that you killed Ms Weasley in her bedroom with a Banishing Hex in the late afternoon of the eighteenth of May. You admitted during your interrogation at the Auror Department to have been at _Stinchcombe Hall_ around the time that the prosecution claims to be the time of death of the victim. Mrs Potter, tell us what really happened.'

For the second time that day the courtroom became dead silent.

'It was the Monday after the promotional party. I had treated myself to a day at Lavender's Beauty Parlour as a reward for my hard work, and was just relaxing after a massage when Pansy McLaggen-Parkinson came into the room. It turned out she'd just seen Harry and Ginny as they talked in the park and couldn't wait to tell me what she assumed had to be bad news for me. Well, she was wrong,' Daphne said in a dry voice. 'Harry and I were both aware of Ginny's game, we had talked about her, and I was left in no uncertain term of his feelings for me and his fidelity, so Pansy's malicious gossip failed to have the result she desired.'

Some chuckles could be heard from the audience.

Daphne gave Harry another sidewards smile. 'I know my husband, if he has a flaw… it's his reluctance to hurt those he perceives his friends… funnily enough it's also one of his most endearing traits. He still thought of Ginny as a friend, albeit a rather distant one. No matter how much she got on his nerves, he never would've snubbed her if she greeted him. With that knowledge it was easy for me not to react to Pansy's taunts.'

The remnants of the soft smile she'd given him vanished, she set her jaw in a grim line, and her voice became hard. 'Instead it was becoming increasingly obvious that if we wanted to stop Ginny's intrusions into our marriage, then it would be up to me to show Ginny her place.'

Her words hung in the air. Each eye in the courtroom was turned on her, and nobody said a word.

'The beauty parlour wasn't exactly the place to think about how to do that. When I returned home, I decided to take a stroll and clear my head.' Daphne's voice was calm and controlled again. 'There's a hiking track that borders our estate and leads from there through the meadows towards the border of _Stinchcombe Hall._ That property is surrounded by a ha-ha, a deep ditch to keep the cattle and deer out of the park. Humans, however, can cross the ha-ha by using one of the turrets that were built for that purpose and as lookouts onto the landscape. I decided to take a break and climbed up the steps that led into one of the turrets.'

She straightened and met the judge's eyes fair and square. 'That's how I found her, sitting in the turret, her back turned to me. The opportunity was too good to let it pass. I'd been feeling unwell for quite some time back then, and Ginny had added to that with her shenanigans. Albeit I didn't know it yet, I was in the very early stages of my pregnancy and probably cranky and unreasonable because of that. I wanted payback, I wanted to humiliate her like she had humiliated me and I wanted her to keep her nose out of my marriage. So, I petrified her with a spell to her back, disarmed her, and levitated her towards the house, she may have accidentally hit a couple of the walls on the way down, but I doubt she'd have even bruised from those couple of knocks. Once there, I dumped her onto the carpet in the entrance hall and told her that Harry and I knew everything about her scheme to get at Harry's gold. I told her we had evidence she'd betrayed Harry while she was supposed to be with him and continued her affair with her lover during her marriages. I threatened we'd go public with what we knew and destroy her reputation thoroughly, so she never again would be able to show her face in the magical society, no matter where in the world she lived. Finally, I told her we had a private investigator at hand we'd sic on her to dig up even more dirt. Until then, she'd been furious, her face was red and she'd glared at me all the time. At my last words, she turned ashen. When I demanded of her to leave us alone from now on, she agreed. In return, I promised not to use the evidence we had against her. I told our head elf to lift the Petrification Spell, but not before I was well away, and left while she was still lying on the floor. That was the last time I saw her.'

The piercing scream of a woman broke the silence that hung in the courtroom after Daphne's words.

'You damnable bitch! Isn't it enough you killed my little girl? Why do you have to dance on her grave and spit on her reputation on top of that?'

Molly Weasley, her face an unhealthy purple colour, had sprung to her feet and had attempted to advance on Daphne.

'Molly, stop it, you don't know what you're doing!'

'Let go of me, Arthur!' Molly turned around, brushed her husband's hand off her arm, and pushed him away from her. He stumbled and fell to the ground.

'If she thinks she can get away with this, she's got another thing coming, I'm going to teach that whore a lesson she won't forget!' She whirled around, swooped down on Arthur and plucked her wand from her husband's groping hand. She straightened, her wand was in her hand and pointed at Daphne so fast none of the Aurors in the room had the reflexes to react in time.

'EXPELLIARMUS!'

The wand shot out of Molly's grasp, she staggered backwards, stumbled over Arthur, who was still trying to pick himself up off the floor, and crashed to the ground.

The courtroom exploded into noise.

Harry jumped up and caught the wand sailing towards him with his left hand. His eyes searched for Daphne.

She was pale, yet composed, nothing in her demeanour let on if she was scared by Molly's attack. As if she felt his glance on herself, she turned her head around and gave him a faint smile. 'I'm alright, love,' she mouthed through the ongoing ruckus in the room Susan had not yet managed to calm down.

He let out the breath he'd been holding and trained his eyes on Molly once again. Even though she was temporarily out of commission and had lost her wand, he'd never underestimate her. She was a tiger-mum who'd lost her cub and lashed out at anyone as hard as she could in her grief, without another thought of the consequences. They would all be safer if she didn't get her wand back, so he tossed it to Bill, who rolled his eyes with a "gee thanks look" and pocketed it.

Molly just got back to her feet, assisted by Arthur. Her eyes still glared at Daphne with a burning hatred, and she struggled against Arthur's grip on her arms.

'I told you, let go of me, Arthur,' she screamed.

The courtroom fell silent, the audience and even the judges frozen by the drama.

Arthur tightened his grip around Molly's arms. 'Molly, you have no idea what you're doing… Molly!... MOLLY! EVERY WORD DAPHNE SAID ABOUT GINNY'S PLANS WITH HARRY IS TRUE!'

She slacked in his arms, all colour drained off her face. 'Not you, too, Arthur!'

'Oh Molly, I wish I could have spared you this. I heard them, Ginny and her lover, as they talked about their plans with Harry in our orchard, and developed a plan that Ginny should marry a couple of rich men and get divorced soon after, one night a couple of days after Harry and Daphne's wedding. In all my life I never was so ashamed of one of my children.'

Molly slumped against him, she buried her face in his chest, and her shoulders quivered.

Arthur put an arm around her and led her towards her seat, where he cast a Privacy Charm around them and continued comforting his distraught wife.

Susan took a deep breath, as if awakening out of a nightmare. She motioned towards Anthony. 'Please, continue with the statement of the accused, Mr Goldstein.'

'We're almost through, Your Honour,' Anthony replied. He walked to the small table that held the evidence, picked up a wand and showed it to Daphne. 'Is this your wand, Mrs Potter?'

'Yes, that is the wand that chose me at Ollivander's in August ninety-one, the year I started at Hogwarts.'

Anthony turned to the judge's table. 'The defence introduces this wand, which the accused identified as hers, as piece of evidence D three, a piece of evidence that the defence notes the prosecution failed to enter themselves, one wonders why that might be.' He spun back to Daphne. 'Mrs Potter, if I'll perform Priori Incantatem on this wand, which spells will it show for, let's say the last twenty spells?'

'In reverse order?'

Anthony nodded.

Daphne scrunched up her nose in thought. 'Madam Roper confiscated my wand around midnight on the day Ginny's body was found. You, Harry and I spent the afternoon preparing for my arrest, because we anticipated that happening after Molly accused me of Ginny's murder, so I didn't use my wand then. Before that, Harry and I had a long talk about what had happened, without any need for me to use my wand, either. I spent the morning at _The Burrow,_ giving my support to the Weasleys. I'm sure I used my wand there a couple of times to perform household spells, such as lighting the stove, summoning mugs and tea, just simple things I didn't think about twice. I remember I cast a Glamour Charm on me before I left our bedroom that morning to talk to Director McLean, and right before that a Cleaning Charm on my body and teeth because I was in a hurry and had no time for my usual morning routine.'

She paused, and her face pinked in a rather becoming way.

'Harry and I fooled around somewhat the night before, so you'll find a couple of Tickling Charms and Tripping Hexes.'

That caused some raised eyebrows, but also soft laughter in the courtroom.

Justin bent towards Harry. 'Just out of curiosity, mate, who won?'

'Do you have to ask?'

'No, not really. Daphne is a powerful witch, but you're just putty in her hands,' Justin said with a chuckle.

'What comes next?' Anthony asked.

Daphne gulped. 'That has to be my encounter with Ginny. The Levitation Charm, the Disarming Spell and the Bodybind Curse, if I remember correctly. Before that, another Glamour Charm in the morning before I left the house.'

Without another word, Anthony turned to the judge's table and said, 'For the record, Your Honours. Priori Incantatem!'

A small, silvery flame appeared and vanished, Anthony repeated the spell a couple of times, and silvery mugs and bags of tea floated through the air, and a kettle settled down on burning flames.

The next two spells showed a pale image of Daphne's face and her body.

'That would have been the first spells you cast on Tuesday morning, right?'

Daphne nodded, her face showed traces of pink from the embarrassment she had to go through when her naked body shimmered into existence, albeit only for a few seconds.

'Priori Incantatem!' Anthony said and flicked Daphne's wand yet another time.

The silvery image of Harry, only clad in a pair of rather tight jeans, collapsed to the ground in a helpless heap of laughter.

The corners of Anthony's mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. However, his voice was calm when he repeated the spell a few times, and each time revealed a laughing Harry being caught either by a Tripping Hex or a Tickling Spell, much to the amusement of the audience.

The amusement faltered within an instant, however, as the image of a floating Ginny shimmered into existence. Daphne had held the Levitation Charm on her a rather long time, and they got a repetition of the walk from the turett up to the house. The next Reversal Spell came up with an image of a wand soaring towards Daphne, followed by an image of Ginny, as her arms and legs snapped to her side and she fell to the ground.

Anthony finished his examination of Daphne's wand when once again Daphne's face showed up. He handed the wand to Daphne.

Daphne took her wand into both hands. A content smile crept on her face, and she said, 'Lumos!'

A blinding light appeared at the tip of her wand that had quite a lot of people shield their eyes.

Daphne canceled the spell and handed her wand back to Anthony.

Anthony took the wand from her and gave it to the court scribe to be entered as evidence. He turned to Roper. 'Your witness.'

The witch got up, a feral gleam in her eyes, and stalked towards Daphne.

Harry dried the moist palms of his hands at the sides of his robes. Daphne had moved through Anthony's rehearsed questions with flying colours. Roper, however, would be looking for holes in Daphne's statement, and she'd be anything but gentle and respectful about that. No, she'd be trying to throw Daphne off guard, so her earlier statement would be regarded with a doubtful eye. Even though the fact Daphne still had her magic was a strong indicator she had told the truth, it was common knowledge that magical oaths could be circumvented.

Daphne was no fool, she had to be aware of this. His eyes never left his wife's face. She looked calm and collected, most likely her Occlumency shields were in full force. Merlin give she'd keep as cool as this during Roper's entire interrogation!

Roper regarded Daphne with a false smile on her lips. 'Congratulations on your pregnancy, Mrs Potter.'

Daphne inclined her head in thanks.

Roper leaned against the witness box. 'This surely is a big surprise for the magical world.' Her voice sounded as casual as her stance, mimicking Anthony's posture and cadence from earlier, as if she was having a friendly chat with Daphne. 'Afterall, you've been married for what? Ten years? I think by now it's an established fact in magical Britain that you had decided against children in favour of your company. Terribly sad for your husband, of course. He must've longed for a family of his own all his life, being an orphan and all.'

She leaned closer to Daphne, whose face was a stoney mask. 'It's rather convenient that you became pregnant the moment your husband's lost love returned home and became a threat to your marriage, don't you think so? Was it another of your little games to keep your husband in your clutches?'

Harry ground his teeth and took a deep breath. How dare Roper taunt Daphne with the pain of their unintentional childlessness they had suffered through for so many years? His eyes were glued to Daphne, willing her to stay strong.

Daphne's stoney face still didn't let on her feelings, at least not to those who didn't know her as well as Harry and his friends.

Behind him, Hermione groaned, and Fleur said something in French that sounded like an expletive.

'I don't think Harry's and my family planning is any of your business, Madam Roper,' Daphne said, her chin held high.

'That's where you're wrong, Mrs Potter. It seems you forgot you are at court, and it is part of this trial to find out your motivations to kill Ginevra Weasley. We've already established that she was a threat to your marriage. In this light -'

Anthony shot to his feet. 'Objection! The prosecution is drawing conclusions that are the prerogative of the court.'

'Objection sustained,' Susan said with a bang of her gavel. 'The prosecution will have time enough to present their conclusions in their summation.'

Some colour shot into Roper's cheeks, there was an angry gleam in her eyes when she addressed the judges. 'Your Honours, it's the aim of the prosecution to show the accused not only had an opportunity, but also a strong motive to kill the victim. In that light the surprising pregnancy of the accused is to be regarded as important circumstantial evidence. We have to know how this pregnancy came about.'

'One would think in the usual way,' Anthony said in a low, but carrying voice.

That caused an uproarious laughter in the courtroom.

Susan banged her gavel. 'Mr Goldstein, please refrain from making comments out of turn, even if you do make a valid point.' The corners of her mouth twitched.

'That was not what I meant.' Roper glared at Anthony.

'In that case the court advises the prosecution to phrase their questions more precisely,' Susan said.

The colour on Roper's cheeks intensified, she took a deep breath and turned back to Daphne. 'Mrs Potter, why this pregnancy right now, was it in response to your husband's girlfriend returning to England?'

'I've been told babies have a way to resist planning. They turn up, or they don't. Believe me, my husband and I are as surprised about this pregnancy as anyone, probably even more so,' Daphne said. Albeit her voice sounded light, the tendons of her neck stood out, and she held her shoulders in an unnatural, stiff posture, all signs that betrayed how much Roper had got to her.

Harry clenched his fists. Why was Roper fixated on this, why didn't she get on to another point? Even though the happiness about her pregnancy had made up for all their years of dashed hopes for a family, the years of pain were hard to forget, especially for Daphne, who always had blamed herself for their childlessness.

Ropers glance became calculating. 'Mrs Potter, I'm not a healer, but even I know how unlikely it is for a couple to remain childless for ten years - as long as the witch didn't take means to counteract a pregnancy. You'll have to come up with a better explanation. Right now it still looks to me that you never wanted children, but thought twice about that when Ginevra Weasley turned up again. There's nothing about having blackmail material in the form of children if your husband is having stray thoughts, isn't it?'

Daphne startled, her eyes flashed at Roper. 'How dare you accusing me of stooping so low? I'd never use a child of mine for my own means!'

'Then why did you become pregnant right now, Mrs Potter?' Roper was as relentless as a terrier after a rat. 'You'll have to give us a better explanation.'

Red spots appeared on Daphne's cheekbones, she gripped her hands around the armrests of her seat until the knuckles stood out white, and sent a wide-eyed look to Harry.

A wave of heat shot through his body. Damn that Roper bitch! Why did she have to stick her nose into things that were none of her business and had little to do with the trial? All she seemed to want to do is drag their most painful secrets into the open. He took a calming breath and gave Daphne a nod to let her know whatever she decided to reveal, it was alright with him. They'd deal with the repercussions later, when she was free.

Daphne let out a deep breath. When she spoke, her voice was calm once again and betrayed nothing of her pain, albeit her dark, dull eyes showed how much Roper got at her.

Harry's jaw clenched. Roper had just made things considerably more painful for herself, he could forgive people for tresspasses against himself, but if they attacked Daphne, then he'd make them bleed. He'd start tearing Roper down when this fiasco was over.

'Just like most couples, Harry and I dreamt about having a family, albeit we decided to wait until we had finished our studies. When we'd finally come to that point, I had a… potions accident at Crystal Fairy. I almost died. The treatment I got to counteract the poisoning I had suffered impacted my ability to conceive. There was no treatment against infertility available in the magical world, so my husband and I supported research into that topic. I think I tried at least a dozen of newly developed treatments, until we became resigned to the fact that we'd never have children of our own. That I became pregnant after we had lost all hope is short of a miracle.'

Murmurs shot up in the courtroom, Daphne got a lot of sympathetic glances. Even more amazing, for the first time since the beginning of the trial Roper got hostile remarks and looks from the majority of the onlookers.

Harry held his breath. Was this the change in public opinion they had hoped for? While the final verdict was up to the judges, they all were members of the Wizengamot, too. Especially slimy cockroaches like Warrington and Smith would think twice before uttering a verdict that went straight against public sympathies.

Roper didn't notice, her focus was on Daphne like that of the cat in front of the mousehole. 'My, my, Mrs Potter. Just like your husband you have a talent for touching tales. I'm afraid your word alone is not enough, especially since you just gave another reason why your husband was about to leave you. No man wants to be saddled with a barren wife.'

Daphne turned as white as a sheet.

Roper had not yet ended her malicious speech when Harry already pulled out his wand and cast his Patronus.

'What are you doing there, Mr Potter?' Susan asked through the exclamations of awe the silvery stag inspired, and banged her gavel.

'Well, Madam Roper asked for evidence for my wife's claims. I just made sure she'll get it without any further delay.'

Anthony turned around and smirked at him. Harry replied with a wink and bent forward to give his message to Prongs.

'Objection!' Roper screeched. 'Your Honour, this is a flagrant disregard of court procedure.'

'Objection overruled,' Susan said with another bang of her gavel. 'The prosecution knows that the defense has the right to counteract any new aspect the prosecution might bring up immediately, and is allowed to send messengers to obtain additional evidence. While this usually is done by a paralegal, I fail to see why employing a Messenger Patronus should be a violation of protocol.'

Roper was furious and looked as if she was about to give a hot reply. A slight cough from her brother, who once again had taken a seat behind the prosecution, made her reconsider. She took a deep breath, and stalked towards the small table that held the evidence. She picked up the stack of photographs that showed Harry in Ginny's company and the anonymous letter to the .E., whirled around, and almost shoved both into Daphne's face.

'Mrs Potter, your husband already admitted to having met with Ms Weasley whenever he was in the U.S.A., however, what he didn't mention - probably didn't know - is the fact that you were well aware of those clandestine meetings. Isn't it true you were informed of each meeting by a photograph of the secret couple being sent to you?'

'Yes, that's true. However, your information isn't quite correct. Harry knows about the photos being sent to me anonymously after his accidental meetings with Ginny. We're both sure she was behind that, another of her sick little games, you know.' Daphne's reply was calm and collected. 'As my husband already pointed out, not a single one of these photos contains anything incriminating, they were all taken at public places, in full view of the public, I might add. Quite a lot of them are cutouts from photos that were taken of my husband and a larger number of people, while Ginny just happened to be a member of the party. I didn't miss that when I received the photos, so they failed to have the desired effect on me.'

At that moment the doors of the courtroom opened and Healer Payne strolled into the room. He walked up to the judge's table. 'I've been summoned to give my statement in the case of Mrs Daphne Potter.'

Susan made a gesture to Anthony. 'Your witness.'

Anthony acknowledged that with a nod and glanced at Roper. 'Is the prosecution finished with questioning the accused?'

'No more questions at this time,' Roper answered, a pinched expression on her face.

Once more Anthony handed his wand to Daphne, once more the bright light of her spell blinded the audience.

Daphne got up and went back to her place. She held herself very straight, nothing in her demeanour or looks betrayed how strenuous this had been for her. Harry, however, saw behind her glamour charms, and his stomach gave an uncomfortable leap at the paleness of her cheeks. One way or another, he'd make sure she got the rest and peace of mind she so obviously needed as soon as this was over. Either she'd leave the courtroom exonerated and as a free woman, or Mipsy, who was at her post next to Daphne, would Apparate her to safety.

Anthony waited until Daphne had settled down in her place, then turned to Healer Payne with an inviting motion towards the witness box. 'If you please, Healer Payne.'

However, the healer didn't take a seat in the witness box immediately. Instead, he looked at Daphne. 'Mrs Potter, do you release me from my oath of confidentiality as a healer pertaining to the treatment you received at St Mungo's five years ago, in August two thousand-three?'

'I do,' Daphne said.

'Very well.' Healer Payne sat down in the witness box.

'Healer Payne, do you agree to a statement under Veritaserum?' Anthony asked.

'Yes, I do.'

Anthony waited until the potion was administered. As soon as a slight slackening of Healer Payne's features indicated the potion had taken effect, he said, 'Healer Payne, in the light of Mrs Potter's pregnancy the reasons for her childlessness have become a topic of "interest" in this trial,' Anthony used his fingers in the time honoured way to denote quotation marks, all whilst his voice was dripping with sarcasm, clearly indicating what he thought of this line of questioning.

'While Mrs Potter claims her childlessness was unintentional and caused by the treatment she received after a potion accident a couple of years ago, the prosecution suspects that Mrs Potter used her rather recent pregnancy as a weapon to save a failing marriage. Can you please shed some light on the matter?'

Healer Payne crossed his legs. 'That I can.' Although the effect of the Veritaserum showed in his slightly halting pattern of speech, his furrowed eyebrows and focussed stare showed his concentration. 'Mrs Potter became my patient in August two thousand-three. She was admitted to St. Mungo's by Emergency Portkey after a potions accident. A first Diagnostic Spell showed she had extensive potion burns on her chest and hands, and was suffering from a severe poisoning. Although she had been administered a Bezoar right after the accident, her life hung by a thread. We were lucky we got a sample of the fatal potion and could begin our analysis immediately. Thirty minutes later, and Mrs Potter would've been beyond help.'

Quite a few visitors gave shocked and dismayed exclamations at that.

The palms of Harry's hands became moist. Even five years later the memory of that horrible day still unsettled him. He'd come so close to losing the biggest treasure he had -

The voice of the healer interrupted his thoughts.

'While we were able to help Mrs Potter, we couldn't save the foetus she was carrying. The ingredients we had to use to brew the antidote had abortive properties. Albeit I believe Mrs Potter would have lost the baby in any case. A second Diagnostic Spell showed that her pregnancy was still in a very early stage, four or five weeks along, maybe. With a poisoning as extensive as the one Mrs Potter had suffered I doubt the foetus would have survived, even if we had been able to give her a potion without abortive properties.'

'No!' Hermione's loud gasp disturbed the quietness of the courtroom.

Harry turned around and grabbed her hand that was balled into a fist in her lap. 'I'm sorry, Hermione, we never wanted you to find out.'

Tears welled up in her eyes. 'Why didn't you tell me?'

Susan cleared her throat.

'Later,' Harry mouthed to Hermione, gave her hand a final squeeze, and turned around.

Healer Payne's last statement earned Daphne a lot of sympathetic looks. Roper, however, made a face as if she had swallowed a toad of Umbridge-like dimensions.

'Were there additional repercussions of the antidote, beside the abortive properties?'

'Unfortunately, yes,' Healer Payne said with a nod. 'We knew right from the beginning that the antidote would influence Mrs Potter's fertility, albeit the extent was not yet foreseeable. We hoped for zero to minor repercussions, with the worst-case-scenario being that Mrs Potter would never conceive again.' He turned his head and smiled at Daphne. 'Well, Mrs Potter ended up somewhere in between, yet, the last five years have not been easy for her and her husband. I was the one who confirmed Mrs Potter's second pregnancy a few weeks ago. Mrs Potter had been struggling with nausea for quite some time, however, due to her problems conceiving she never thought that it would be due to pregnancy. I admit when she came to me for help it didn't occur to me, either. It wasn't until I had excluded all other possibilities that I cast the Diagnostic Spell for a pregnancy and hit the jackpot.' His smile became brighter. 'I've never seen a young couple as happy about the news as the Potters.'

'No more questions,' Anthony said, and looked towards Roper.

She also shook her head.

Anthony then called Harry once again into the witness stand. 'Mr Potter, the prosecution claims that your wife's failure to get pregnant were another reason for you to leave her in favour of Ginevra Weasley. Is that true?'

Harry turned his head towards Daphne, caught her eyes and didn't look away while he answered Anthony's question. 'That's another unfounded speculation of the prosecution. Our unintentional childlessness was the reason my wife offered me divorce a second time about two years ago. She somehow got it into her head that she owed me an heir and ought to step aside if she couldn't fulfill that duty.' He huffed. 'It was my opinion then and still is now that she was peddling a load of dragon dung! I think I made it pretty clear to her there and then what I thought about that nonsense. Why would I ever consent to leave her? I love her!'

As he ended, Daphne flashed him a blinding smile, albeit there was a suspicious sheen in her eyes.

'Thank you, no more questions.' Anthony's voice came from far away through the "aws" and "ohs" that rang through the courtroom.

Roper also declined, albeit she shot Harry a murderous glance, and he stepped out of the witness box and walked back to his seat.

Anthony stepped in front of the judge's table. Addressing the panel of judges and the audience likewise, he said, 'To corroborate Mrs Potter's statement that Ginevra Weasley still was alive when she left the premises of _Stinchcombe Hall_ on Monday, the eighteenth of May, we call Unspeakable X into the witness box. He'll further clarify the reason of death, which wasn't a Blasting Hex, as the Prosecution claims.'

The dark-robed, hooded figure rose from the bench reserved for the witnesses and took a seat in the witness box. A round of amazed whispers went through the courtroom when Anthony asked for the assent to administer Veritaserum, and the Unspeakable consented.

'Unspeakable X, you performed a first _in situ_ examination on the body of the victim, and then yet another one in the morgue of the Department of Mysteries. What -'

'How dare you! I never gave my consent to that!'

Once again Molly Weasley's screaming voice interrupted Anthony's interrogation and Anthony massaged his temples in obvious frustration. Molly once more stood in front of her seat, her hands balled into fists, and glared at the Unspeakable.

Roper shot to her feet. 'Objection, Your Honours. It seems the Department of Mysteries conducted the examination of the victim without the necessary consent of the closest relatives. In that case it is highly doubtful that his statement can be used in this trial.'

'Objection sustained,' Susan said with a bang of her gavel before Anthony could utter a word of protest. 'The defense will have to explain and prove that the Department of Mysteries acted with the consent of the closest relatives of the victim.' She directed a stern eye at Molly. 'Please, sit down, Mrs Weasley, and refrain from any more interruptions of the trial. The court is aware of how painful this must be for you, and is prepared to give you a certain amount of leeway because of that. However, I won't tolerate your outbursts indefinitely.'

Molly sat down, considerably chastised, and Anthony let out a sigh of long suffering and turned to the Unspeakable. 'Unspeakable X, on which grounds did you perform the examinations?'

'The first examination was on the grounds of the Auror Guidelines of Crime Scene Investigation. It states that in case of the discovery of a corpse a member of the Department of Mysteries should be called in for a first estimation of the approximate time and cause of death. An in depth examination of the body, especially an autopsy, is performed by my department if either the Auror Department or the family calls for it; the latter was the case here.'

'Which member of the family called for the autopsy?'

'That was Head Auror Ronald Weasley. His request was backed by Mr William Weasley, the heir of the Weasley clan, who acted as his father's proxy in this case.'

Anthony turned to Roper. 'Any questions?'

She sneered back at him. 'No, but the prosecution likes to point out that the claim of the witness that the autopsy was requested by the heir of the Weasley family isn't proved.'

'Oh, that can be rectified easily,' Anthony said. He turned to the Unspeakable and thanked him for his time, then said, 'The defense calls Mr William Weasley into the witness box.'

Bill got up and walked down the few steps to the floor of the courtroom and the witness box.

'Mr Weasley, is it true you gave permission to the Department of Mysteries to perform an autopsy on your sister's body?'

'That is true.'

'Please, elaborate.'

Bill's face was solemn, only a few creases around his eyes and the fleeting look he gave at Roper and Dawlish behind her betrayed how much he relished to show them up for the farce they had made of the investigation of Ginny's murder.

'My younger brother Ronald and I were at our parent's house to support them the day after Ginny's body had been discovered, when Deputy Head Auror Dawlish showed up. He told my parents that the murderess of my sister had been arrested, the Auror Department had finished their investigations of the crime scene and that the D.M.L.E. released the crime scene and the body. I happened to be sitting opposite my brother Ron at the time. By his reaction it was obvious to me that my brother was agitated by the news. Later when I asked him what was wrong, he told me there was no way the Auror Department could have finished all the investigations required by protocol in such a short span of time. He was adamant there had been no time for an autopsy of Ginny's body, and told me that if that omission wasn't corrected, it most likely would be impossible to ever find out the truth about Ginny's death.'

Dawlish huffed at that and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Harry shook his head. What a moron!

Bill gave him a small roll of his eyes that indicated he shared that sentiment. He turned his eyes back on Anthony, and his face became hard. 'From the way Deputy Head Auror Dawlish led the investigation it was plain to see he was, if you'll pardon the pun, as dead set as our mother to put the blame for Ginny's death on Daphne. My brothers and I, however, didn't share that opinion, and neither did our father. We all knew Ginny had lived a less than exemplary life. I hate to say this about my dead sister, but there was always the distinct possibility she'd be killed by one of her many lovers in a bout of jealousy, or get involved with the wrong sort of people. So Ronald and I approached our father and talked to him about Ron's concerns. We asked his permission to have a private autopsy conducted by the Department of Mysteries, and he gave it.'

'That's true.' Arthur's calm voice confirmed Bill's statement.

Anthony nodded his thanks towards Arthur, before returning his attention to Bill. 'Thank you, Mr Weasley, the defense has no more questions.' Anthony cocked an eyebrow at Roper, who shook her head.

'The objection of the prosecution is hereby dismissed,' Susan said with a bang of her gavel.

A pleased smile crossed Anthony's face. 'The defense once again calls Unspeakable X into the witness stand.'

The Unspeakable took his place.

'Unspeakable X, you already told us you examined the body twice. The first time was on the morning of the nineteenth, in Ms Weasley's bedroom, and the second time one day later, in the morgue of the Department of Mysteries. Were you able to deduce the time of Ms Weasley's death and the cause of her death from your examinations?'

'Yes, I was.'

The audience became restless at that.

'We all heard the prosecution's claims that Ms Weasley died in the late afternoon of the eighteenth, by a Blasting Hex cast at her by Mrs Potter, a Blasting Hex which flung her against the wall and caused her skull to crack. Did your investigations validate the claims of the prosecution? Or are they barking up the wrong wand tree?'

The Unspeakable cracked a smile at that last statement from Anthony, but it didn't show in his voice as he answered the question. 'No, my investigations didn't validate the claims of the prosecution.'

The Unspeakable's calm statement caused another uproar in the courtroom. Anthony waited with a small smile that indicated how pleased he was with the statement of the Unspeakable until Susan had restored order.

'Please, tell us what you found out.'

'My first examination unfortunately was cut short by Deputy Head Auror Dawlish'… highhandedness.' The Unspeakable glared into Dawlish' direction, who squirmed in his seat.

A grim smile appeared on Harry's lips. Very soon the Deputy Head Auror would be squirming even more, even if he had to give away every bit of influence and return every favour he'd accumulated in the ministry and the Wizengamot over the last years. Hell, he'd bend every Knut of the Potter fortune to root out and highlight every corrupt official in Magical Britain, even if he had to hire an army of private investigators to do it. His musings were interrupted as the Unspeakable continued with his evidence.

'I entered what was considered the primary crime scene at a quarter past ten in the morning of the nineteenth of May. Ms Weasley's body was on the floor, close to her bed, in a sitting position with her upper body leaned against the wall, as if she had slumped down there. As it is protocol, I first scanned the room with a Detection Spell for signs of strong magic, like for example a Blasting Hex or a Stunner, but also spells that can alter the surroundings, and an additional one for Dark Magic, like the Killing Curse. Both spells came up negative.'

This statement once again caused excited whispers in the visitors ranks, until Susan restored order.

Harry gave a small, satisfied grunt and leaned back in his seat. That was only just the beginning of today's attack of the defense. Anthony had made him privy to the contents of the investigations of the Department of Mysteries yesterday and given him a short outline of how he was going to conduct the questioning. The curious wizarding public would be in for a few more surprises today.

'I then cast a couple of spells on the room that enabled me to determine the temperature of the air surrounding the corpse. With another spell directed at the liver of the corpse I determined the temperature of that organ. A third spell, another also developed by my department after the war to improve magical crime scene investigation and draw level with Muggle science, put these two temperatures into relation with the average temperature of the human body. The result of that spell enabled me to determine the time of death rather accurately as having occurred between eight o'clock and eight thirty in the morning of the nineteenth of May.'

Anthony raised his voice above the noise the visitors made at that revelation. 'So you are sure Ms Weasley died on the nineteenth, more than twelve hours after the time the prosecution claimed?'

'Absolutely, I'd stake my reputation on it,' the Unspeakable said with a nod. 'The rate at which the human body cools down after death is determined by the temperature of the surrounding air. In theory, a witch or wizard familiar with that topic could potentially try to lead us astray by raising or lowering the room temperature magically, however, these altering spells require a lot of power, and the first Diagnostic Spells I cast on the room already showed that no strong magic had been used there recently. Besides that, the measurements of the room temperature and the liver temperature are not the only clues we rely on when determining the time of death. There's also the phenomenon of rigor mortis, that is the way how the muscles of the human body stiffen after death. It too follows certain rules, beginning with the muscles at the eyelids, the jaw and the small knuckles of the hands about two hours after death if the corpse is kept at room temperature. Ms Weasley's body showed first signs of stiffening of the muscles of the eyelids and the jaw. That confirmed the conclusion from the measurements of the temperature: Ms Weasley had died about two hours ago.'

The Unspeakable shot another withering look at Deputy Head Auror Dawlish. 'I was just about to inform the leading investigator about my findings, as protocol demanded, when Head Auror Dawlish blatantly disregarded protocol and ordered me out of the room. He absolutely refused to listen to me and accept my findings. I had no other option than to relent.' He let out a huff that conveyed much of the professional frustration he must've been suffering that morning from Dawlish' unprofessional conduct. 'Had he listened to me, he would've known that Ms Weasley died much later than he assumed. In that case, Mrs Potter most likely never would've got caught in the maelstrom of his so-called investigation, and we wouldn't be here today. As I see it, Deputy Head Auror Dawlish deliberately prevented and obstructed a proper investigation of the case in favour of a certain outcome.'

There was a short, incredulous silence, then hell broke loose.

Roper jumped to her feet, her face as red as a cooked crab, and shouted something towards the judge's table. However, her words were drowned out be the shouts of outrage and anger from the visitors seats.

Dawlish wrestled with two Aurors.

Had the moron been dumb enough to let himself being overcome by his anger because he had been thrown under a rampaging Hippogryff by the Unspeakable? It seemed so, only a fool would think that preventing an Unspeakable for doing their job wouldn't come back to bite you severely on the arse.

A nudge on his shoulder from Lisa diverted Harry from the actions of the foolish Deputy Head Auror. He turned his head to look at her and reciprocated to the smug smile on her face with a broad grin.

She bent towards him. 'It was about time!' she shouted over the ongoing noise.

He nodded, still grinning. After all the malicious lies reported about Daphne in the _Prophet,_ lies that were all to readily lapped up by the still far too gullible wizarding public, it felt good to strike back. And according to Anthony's plan, this was only just the beginning. He looked at the young barrister.

Anthony stood next to the witness box. His hands shoved in the pockets of his robes, he waited for the mayhem to run its course. He didn't grin like Harry, but his posture betrayed his satisfaction with the reaction the last statement of the Unspeakable had caused.

At last, Susan, with the help of the Auror guards, restored order to the room. However, before she resumed the trial, she made good on her threat and inflicted hefty fees on the worst offenders. Nobody in the room dared to protest.

With a last, hard stare at the audience Susan turned to Roper, who still stood, her face a mask of fury. 'Did the prosecution want to raise an objection?'

'Indeed!' Roper's voice quivered with barely suppressed anger. 'The prosecution protests the last statement of the Unspeakable and demands that it will be withdrawn from the trial record. The Unspeakable uttered his personal opinion that in no way pertains to the investigations of the Department of Mysteries.'

Susan glanced towards Anthony.

'I don't concur, Your Honour. The Unspeakable pointed out a major failure in the investigations of the D.M.L.E. and the adverse consequences it had on the whole case of the D.M.L.E., in particular to the conclusions they drew about the alleged perpetrator of the crime. I'd like to remind the court that _Deputy Head Auror_ Dawlish already admitted to that incredible violation of the rules of crime scene investigation in his statement in front of this court two days ago. In that light the Unspeakable did nothing else than to inform the court of the conclusions he had drawn from the investigation of evidence presented to him.'

Susan looked at the other judges at the table and raised a Privacy Ward around them.

Harry watched the heated discussion with bated breath. Warrington already exerted control about Ogden with whatever questionable means on Monday. Had he used the two days since then to gain control over one of the other judges, too? He'd been especially hard on Carmichael, Merlin give the man hadn't caved in to whatever threats Warrington made. His eyes swerved to the wizard in question.

The man squirmed in his seat, while Warrington leaned into him and talked into his ear in what seemed to be a low voice. Carmichael paled, swallowed hard, and gave a faint nod. He said something to Susan, albeit he didn't look her in the eyes.

Susan froze. She gave Carmichael an incredulous look and seemed to be at the verge of a hot reply. However, she snapped her mouth shut when Padma put a hand on her arm and shook her head. Instead, she levelled a look at Warrington that made the visitors stick their heads together and talk in hushed voices.

Harry's stomach dropped and the palms of his hands became sweaty. It appeared that the majority of the judges just had turned against Daphne. Now only Susan, Padma and Orphington remained for the conflicting vote Anthony's strategy aimed at, and by the looks of it, Padma already was under pressure, too. That left only Susan and Orphington. Would they withstand Warrington?

'Suzy's on the warpath,' Justin said with undisguised glee in his voice. 'His line will be extinct when she's finished with Warrington. The idiot has no idea what a horrendous dragon he just tickled with his obviously successful attempt to blackmail Carmichael into succumbing to Geoffrey Roper's agenda.'

Harry's head jerked towards him. 'What do you mean by that?'

Justin's eyes were still on his former housemate. 'I know Suzy, we grew up together in Hufflepuff, remember? She's as stubborn as anyone I've ever met when she's made her mind up, including you, in addition she's absolutely incorruptible too. She'd rather die than give in to Warrington's pressure. Even better, she despises corruption, and that was as blatant a display as I've ever seen. Smith is at least being discreet for him, Suzy's on Warrington's scent now, and she won't rest until she's put him behind bars, you know as well as I do that as the Chief Adjudicator of a case she can initiate an investigation if she feels its warranted, but only after the case is closed.'

Justin paused and seemed to ponder something, 'Actually, if you wanted a prime candidate for Head of the DMLE when you get rid of Roper, Susie's your girl. Don't get me wrong, Ron would be excellent, too, but at this point in time he's far too valuable as Head Auror. Give the role to Susie and she and Ron will wheedle out every bit of the "Old Boys Club" corruption still prevalent in the Ministry in five to ten years.'

The weight on Harry's chest lifted a little. Justin probably knew what he was talking about. Yet, he didn't like the slim odds of being dependant on Susan's and Orphington's steadfastness for Daphne's freedom. Thankfully, Mipsy was at her post. As soon as the shit hit the fan, the elf would grab Daphne and apparate her out of here, and then it was good riddance to magical England and its corruption toward the Potter family.

Albeit a small part of him still hoped it wouldn't come to that, they'd hate to leave their friends and the graves of their family behind… But should it happen, he'd bend the Potter fortune towards breaking those responsible.

Susan cancelled the Privacy Ward, and Harry concentrated on the trial once again.

'Objection sustained, the clerk will strike the last statement from the record,' Susan said. Her voice sounded frosty, and her eyes hardened as she watched the court clerk deleting the last part of the Unspeakable's statement from the protocol.

Low, angry hisses from the tiers indicated that the court of public opinion didn't agree with that decision.

Harry glanced around. A lot of wizards and witches glared openly at the judge's table, and the journalists in the benches reserved for the press once again scribbled their fingers off. The statement might be stricken from the official court record but it would find its way into the public record, witches and wizards gossiped more than old fish wives.

The two Ropers glowed with triumph, but Carmichael and Ogden shifted uneasily in their chairs and eyed the visitors tiers with what appeared to be some apprehension. Had they sensed that the winds of change had suddenly arrived and they were now trapped somewhere between a theoretical immovable object and an unstoppable force? Well, it served them right for not possessing a moral backbone.

Anthony didn't let on what he thought of the decision of the court. As if the interruption hadn't happened, he turned back to the Unspeakable and resumed the questioning.

'Let's get to the magical autopsy you performed on the body of the victim. Please, tell us your findings and the conclusions you were able to draw from that about the cause of Ms Weasley's death.'

'Well, from the position the body was found, it was likely that Ms Weasley had been submitted to a Blasting Charm.'

Roper and Dawlish both permitted themselves a triumphant smile at that statement.

'However, the first Diagnostic Charm I cast on the body excluded that possibility already. There was no sign of an external forceful magical impact on her chest or any other part of her body. The examination of her skull didn't show any sign of a fraction, either, albeit there was a small abrasion at the back of her head that matched Mrs Potter's statement of having dumped Ms Weasley on the floor. That wouldn't have killed Ms Weasley, so I dug deeper. The visual inspection of Ms Weasley's body showed subdural hematomas on her throat and neck, overlaid by scratches. From the position of the hematomas and the number of scratch marks I found, it seemed likely that the perpetrator throttled Ms Weasley, thumbs antecervical. That means the perpetrator stood in front of her, their thumbs pressed against Ms Weasley's throat and the rest of their fingers at the back of her neck. It was also obvious she fought against him with all her might, leaving scratches from her nails on her own skin and most likely also on the hands of the perpetrator.'

A shudder ran through Harry. What a horrible way to die! She must have known what was coming and fought for her life like a lioness. He cast a covert glance at Molly. How was she taking these revelations? She'd found some solace at the thought that Ginny had died a quick death by a Blasting Hex, the explanations of the Unspeakable had to be devastating.

Molly hid her face at Arthur's chest, and her shoulders shook, while he stroked her back, his face a horrible mixture of helplessness and grieve.

Harry averted his eyes to give them their privacy and concentrated on the Unspeakable.

'I then did an in-depth diagnostic of Ms Weasley's body. That included a couple of Diagnostic Spells to determine the condition of her body, but I also drew a blood sample for further investigation, and magical DNA samples from the skin she'd accumulated under her fingernails during the fight, and a vaginal swab.'

The noise level rose at the last statement, but quickly fell down when Susan glared at the audience. Nobody wanted to risk another fine.

'What did you find out with the Diagnostic Spells, Unspeakable X?' Anthony asked.

'The Diagnostic Spells came up with cartilage injuries of the trachea, injuries of the larynx and the hyoid, and internal bleedings of the conjunctiva of the eyes and tonsils, all injuries that are typically found when the death is caused by strangulation.'

'Had Ms Weasley suffered any other injuries that could have been the cause of her death?'

The Unspeakable shifted in his seat and shook his head. 'No, at least none that were lethal. I detected small abrasions and fissures in the vagina of the victim that suggested she had had rather hard sexual intercourse not long before her death, because these injuries just had begun to heal, but they were by no means lethal. The examination of the blood sample, however, showed that Ms Weasley was under the influence of Anti-Pain-Potions at the time of her death. Yet again, the concentration wasn't high enough to kill her, albeit it will have impacted her reaction and her ability to fight off the perpetrator. So, from the evidence found on the body, I concluded that her death was caused by strangulation and the resulting interruption of the blood flow to the brain.'

Anthony let that statement sink in for a moment. Then he asked, 'You mentioned a vaginal swab. Did it come up with additional evidence?'

Again, the Unspeakable shook his head. 'Unfortunately not, Ms Weasley's partner must have taken precautions that his semen didn't get into her body. I guess he used a Muggle condom and probably discarded it when he left the scene to leave no traces. A Muggle condom is a piece of latex rubber male Muggles put on their penis to prevent their semen from getting into the female body and result in a pregnancy. They are also used as a precaution against venereal diseases that can be transmitted by sexual intercourse. The young generation of wizards and witches mostly use them for that reason, because lately new magical venereal diseases have popped up, and there's not yet a cure against them.'

At the mentioning of an indecent Muggle item a lot of the older audience members stuck their heads together once more, whilst the younger visitors just nodded.

Anthony didn't pay them any heed. 'What about the DNA analysis of the skin found under Ms Weasley's fingernails?'

The Unspeakable sighed. 'Alas, we weren't able to finish that in time for the beginning of the trial. The experts in the Department of Mysteries at first had problems to separate the cells of the victim from those of the perpetrator, but they assured me they'd have a result this afternoon.'

'Thank you, Unspeakable X. I have no more questions, albeit the defence reserves the right to call Unspeakable X back into the witness box as soon as the results of the magical DNA analysis of the skin found under the fingernails of the victim are available.' He picked up a folder from his place next to Daphne. 'The defense introduces the autopsy report as piece of evidence D four to the trial.' He handed the report to the court clerk and made a gesture towards Roper that indicated it was her turn.

Roper didn't react at once. She'd turned her head around and looked at her brother, an almost comical look of cluelessness on her face. Geoffrey Roper didn't fare any better. It was apparent the statement of the Unspeakable had gone right over their heads.

Harry didn't bother to hide his grin, and by the sniggers that run through the room, many in the audience found Roper's cluelessness as satisfying as he did.

Roper got a grip on herself. 'The prosecution has no additional questions at this time,' she said with as much dignity as she could muster.

'The defense calls once again Mr Harry Potter into the witness stand.'

Under the excited murmur of the audience Harry walked to the witness box and agreed to another questioning under Veritaserum.

'Mr Potter, you heard that Unspeakable X explained that he estimated the time of Ms Weasley's death between eight o'clock and eight thirty in the morning of the nineteenth of May. Can you tell us of the whereabouts of your wife at that time?' Anthony asked.

'That I can. I'd forgotten to wind up the mechanical clock on my bedside table the night before, and as a result Daphne and I overslept on the nineteenth. When I woke up, Daphne was more or less draped over me.' Heat crept into Harry's cheek at that statement, and it didn't get better as some spectators chuckled.

He concentrated on Anthony, and the fleeting feeling of embarrassment abated. 'Almost immediately after I'd woken up my mobile phone rang. I had a hard time getting at it without waking Daphne.'

'Please, explain to the court what a mobile phone is, Mr Potter,' Anthony said into the new round of soft laughter.

'It's a device Muggles use to communicate over distance. I guess you can compare it to a Floo call, albeit it's communication by voice only, and much more comfortable, since you only need a small device that you can carry in your pocket. Daphne, I, and our magical staff all use mobile phones that have been modified to run in a magical environment. I always keep my mobile on me, and on my bedside table when I'm asleep, in case of an emergency at Crystal Fairy.' He withdrew his own phone from his pocket and held it up, then pushed a button.

A second later, a loud ring came from Lisa's direction. She opened her handbag, pulled out her own mobile, and answered the call. 'Yes, Harry?'

Harry smiled at her, and ended the call, and put the mobile back into his pocket.

'Thank you, Mr Potter. Please, go on,' Anthony said above the excited comments of the audience.

'Lisa Finch-Fletchley, the lady I just rang and our personal assistant, called that morning, a few minutes after I'd woken, to tell me we were late. Daphne and I were supposed to be in a meeting at Crystal Fairy at eight o'clock that morning, and when we didn't turn up, Lisa called us. According to what she said on the phone it was already ten past eight when she called. However, I wasn't inclined to have a mad rush to the office that morning. Daphne hadn't been feeling well ever since I returned from the Continent about two weeks ago, and despite my concern for her health she'd been stalling about seeing a healer again and again. I was determined that she'd see a healer that day, even if I had to drag her there, kicking and screaming.'

That caused another round of chuckles in the room.

'So, I told Lisa to cancel our appointments for the rest of the week due to Daphne being unwell. She obviously needed rest, and when I ended the phone call with Lisa, I decided to let Daphne sleep some more. I must've dozed off again, for the next thing I remember is our house elf, Matty, waking me up and announcing that Director McLean wanted to talk to Daphne and me. Daphne was still sound asleep that moment, she woke up a few moments later.'

'Thank you, Mr Potter. I have no more questions.' Anthony looked to Roper, who shook her head.

Anthony called Lisa into the witness stand next, who confirmed Harry's statement, and presented Harry's and Daphne's appointment calendar that showed a meeting for eight o'clock on the nineteenth. Anthony entered a Gemino copy of that page and entered it as evidence.

When Lisa walked back to her seat, Susan looked at the big clock hanging above the entrance door. 'We will break for lunch and sit again at two.' She banged her gavel. 'Case adjourned.'

 _t.b.c._

* * *

I would have loved to wrap up the trial in this chapter, however, there was too much going on. I'll come to the big finale in the next one. Afterall, it's my prerogative as a fanfiction writer that I'm allowed to ramble. ;)


	101. Chapter 98

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Another heartfelt thankyou to my wonderful beta Shygui, who went through this crucial chapter I don't know how many times to make sure it was right, even though we were battling with an abysmal internet connection while I was in Italy. The lack of a proper connection for the better part of my holidays is the reason why I still haven't caught up with your reviews. I'll get there, I promise.

Chapter **98,** 17/09/19

* * *

 **98**

 _ **Ministry of Magic, June 4th 2008**_

Susan had scheduled a rather short lunch break, so Harry and Daphne, surrounded by the impromptu security team of their friends and Anthony, decided to have a coffee and a sandwich at the cafeteria of the ministry, even though that meant they'd be on display for the many curious onlookers.

They didn't talk as they drifted out of the courtroom and towards the cafeteria within the crowd of visitors. Daphne was securely tucked between Harry and Anthony, and Harry's eyes roamed the people around them, ready to draw his wand at the slightest provocation.

However, almost nobody paid them any heed. The crowd was abuzz talking in their own small groups about the revelations of the Unspeakable, and speculations about who Ginny's last lover might have been ran wild.

In the cafeteria Harry, Daphne and Anthony took a table in one corner, while their friends sat down at the tables to their right and left, thus warding them off from any unwanted attention. Harry cast strong Privacy Charms and Notice-Me-Not-Charms around them, even if it was unlikely they would need them it was better to be safe than sorry. The majority of the patrons of the cafeteria paid them little heed, most were more obviously interested in grabbing a bite of lunch and discussing Ginny's love life than paying any attention to Daphne.

Harry let out a deep breath. That change of public attitude was very welcomed.

Daphne was deadly pale under her strong glamour charms and leaned heavily against him, her eyes closed. She refused the sandwich Matty brought her when Harry called her, and Harry had to resort to the low blow of discussing the baby's health to ensure that she at least drank some pumpkin juice.

Anthony wasn't talkative, either. He had his folder in front of him, studying some papers and flicking through his notes while he munched on a sandwich.

In what seemed like the blink of an eye to Harry it was time to return to the courtroom. Susan once more led the Judges in and almost before everyone had retaken their seats she had picked up her gavel, banged it, re-opened the case, and asked Anthony to call his next witness.

'The defense calls Senior Auror Dean Thomas.'

Harry's former dorm mate walked to the witness box, sat down, and crossed his legs. Dean looked very dapper in sharp pressed Auror robes, and his relaxed posture made it obvious he'd appeared as a witness at court many times before.

'Senior Auror Thomas, you were part of the team that rushed to _Stinchcombe Hall_ on the nineteenth of May to investigate the death of Ginevra Weasly?' Anthony asked.

'Yes, that's right.'

'Could you please tell the court about your observations regarding the crime scene?'

Dean let out a short, harsh laugh. 'To be honest, my co-Aurors and I never made it to the crime scene. When we arrived, we found a rather distressed witness waiting for us in the entrance hall of the house. He told us he'd discovered Gi… Ms Weasley's dead body in her bedroom. The Deputy Head Auror then ordered us to stay put and went up to the bedroom with Senior Auror Proudfoot. The Unspeakable ignored the order, I saw him sneaking up the stairs right behind the Deputy and Proudfoot, while the rest of us, a highly specialised team of crime scene investigators, stood in the entrance hall and cooled our heels.'

Like with the Unspeakable, his frustration about Dawlish was almost palpable in his voice.

Harry leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms in front of his chest, and took his chin between the thumb and forefinger of one hand. Maybe he wouldn't have to put much effort in getting back at Dawlish, judging by Dean's and the Unspeakable's assessment of his professionalism and the covert, yet angry glances the other Aurors stationed around the courtroom cast at Dawlish whenever he wasn't looking. Dawlish would find it hard to find an Auror willing to take orders from him in the not to distant future, and Kingsley would likely be pressured from multiple fronts to evict him from his duties as Ron's Deputy soon, if not drum him out of the Auror corps altogether.

'The Unspeakable came back not even five minutes later and told us the Deputy had ordered him out of the room before he could finish the initial investigation of the body according to standard protocol. He wasn't happy about that, and neither were we, with each passing minute we were left idle in the entrance hall it became more apparent to us that the Deputy was deliberately ignoring protocol for some yet undetermined reasons of his own.' Dean's voice had become grim, and he sat up straight and shot a withering glance at Dawlish.

'I had enough of standing around, so I pretended to be curious about the rather ostentatious house and ambled into what I discovered had to be the dining room. There was a long table in that room that could seat at least twenty. The head of the table was set for two, there was a plate with the leftovers of a cold dinner on the table, and a half empty bottle of wine. Both plates and the wine glasses next to them were used. I took photos of the table and investigated the room further according to standard protocol. A couple of chairs near the foot of the table were out of line, and the tablecloth there was wrinkled and halfway off the table. Something was lying next to the foot of one chair. I bent down and saw it was a used condom. I took photos of the condom and that area of the long table, too, and pocketed the condom in an evidence bag for a magical DNA examination of its content.'

Harry glanced at Williams.

Tiny beads of sweat pooled on his forehead, and he looked as if he was about to jump up and run from the courtroom.

Good! It was about time the bastard suffered for what he did to Ginny. Yet, there was still a possibility that Zabini was her murderer. Harry's eyes swerved across the witness bank, mindful not to show too much interest in Williams and Zabini.

The dark-skinned wizard still looked as unfazed as he had at the beginning of the day.

Could he really be that calm if he had throttled Ginny? Harry looked back at Williams, who squirmed in his seat, and then again at Zabini's calm posture. No, that was impossible. Williams was their man. He unfolded his arms and bent forward, not wanting to miss a single one of the nails Anthony drove into Williams' coffin.

'What did you do with the evidence?'

Dean sighed. 'I originally planned on giving it to the Deputy. However, when I returned to the entrance hall he wasn't back yet. I took a short trip through the other rooms of the ground floor. They were untouched, as immaculate as if they were on display, and I concluded that the victim either never used them, or had and exceptionally efficient household staff, which made me wonder if she did, why they hadn't cleaned up the dining room? Given that I saw the Deputy speaking to a house elf only a short time later I can only assume that she ordered them to leave her undisturbed for the evening or until she called them again.'

Dean gave a small shrug of his shoulders and continued, 'My walk ended in the attached swimming hall. I found a couple of swimsuits there that probably belonged to the victim, but nothing that indicated she'd been there right before her death or had been there with a visitor. I came back to the entrance hall when the Deputy came down. Instead of putting us to work he ignored us and went to talk with the head house elf. Five minutes later he returned, and before I could even mention the evidence I had found, he announced the case was solved, the victim had been killed by Mrs Potter the afternoon before with a Blasting Hex. That was the moment I decided to keep the evidence I found from the Deputy with the intention of informing the Head Auror instead.'

As to be expected, his statement caused a lot of whispers in the room.

'Why would you do that?'

Dean's face became hard. 'I'd talked to the Unspeakable while the Deputy interrogated the house elf. The Unspeakable told me how he'd found Ms Weasley's body, and that it was naked. I've got ten years as an Auror under my belt, and you can't help developing some sixth sense in your job during such a long time. My gut told me the Deputy's conclusion didn't add up with the evidence I'd found. Everything I'd seen on the ground floor indicated that Ms Weasley must have had a male visitor after Mrs Potter left. It was also obvious to everyone present that the Deputy didn't give a damn about standard protocol, it was also quite obvious that he had no interest in listening to any of us. Actually I'll come right out and say it, the way the Deputy handled the investigation had the strong semblance of a corrupt Auror bending an investigation in a predetermined direction, and I didn't want to be a part of that.'

Oddly enough, while that statement elicited some exclamations from the audience and hasty scribbles into the notebooks of the journalists, it didn't cause an uproar.

Harry shifted his position with a thoughtful nod, people had probably already come to the same conclusion.

Roper, however, shot to her feet, her face once again beet red. 'Objection, the Senior Auror is presuming Deputy Head Auror Dawlish' motives.'

Susan banged her gavel. 'Objection sustained. Senior Auror Thomas, stick to the facts, please.'

Dean inclined his head, he didn't look chastised at all. Instead, he sent a smug smile at Dawlish.

Harry suppressed a grin. How Slytherin of his old roommate! He'd made his point, and judging by the still furiously scribbling journalists, tomorrow the whole population of magical Britain, and of the biggest part of the rest of the magical world as well, would read about it and ask uncomfortable questions, with their fallout most likely dragging Roper down with Dawlish.

It couldn't happen to two more deserving arseholes.

'Moving on, Senior Auror Thomas, what were your next steps with regards to the evidence you have collected?' Anthony asked.

'I gave it to the Unspeakable to log it for further investigation. According to protocol it should have been done by the leading investigator, in this case the Deputy, but I already gave my reasons for going over his head. I was afraid the evidence would get lost somehow if it didn't go to the Department of Mysteries right away.' He drew air quotes with his fingers around the word "lost" to emphasise his point. 'A few days later I met the Head Auror at a private function and informed him of the evidence. As one of the closest relatives of the victim he had the right to demand a magical DNA-examination from the Department of Mysteries and get a report of that examination.'

He pulled a slim folder out of his robes. 'Here is my report, adhering to protocol, about the investigations I performed at _Stinchcombe Hall,_ the evidence I obtained, and how I handled it.'

'Thank you, Senior Auror Thomas.' Anthony took the folder from Dean and entered it as the next piece of evidence of the defense, then motioned to Roper that it was now her turn.

Roper got up from her seat and marched towards the witness box, her eyes narrowed and her mouth tight, as if she was fighting against a bad taste.

'Senior Auror Thomas, are you aware you acted against the order of your superior when you went off strolling through the house of the victim and started tampering with evidence?'

If she had hoped to intimidate Dean with that opening, she failed. Dean leaned back and gave her a level look. 'Of course, Madam Director. For the record, I wasn't tampering, I obtained and handled the evidence according to protocol, as you can read in my report.'

Roper ignored the barb back and latched onto what she perceived as an admission of guilt. 'What by Merlin possessed you to violate protocol like that? You ought to be ashamed, your conduct is a disgrace for the Auror Department, and I am sure that there'll be consequences for you once this court case wraps up.'

Dean didn't as much as flinch. 'I assume, Madam Director, that you're familiar with the laws developed for the Auror Department after the war?'

'Er… of course.'

A small sneer appeared on Dean's face. 'Well, then you'll also know that I was part of the focus group that consisted of members from the Wizengamot, the D.M.L.E. and the Department of Mysteries that developed and wrote those laws. A group that included among others Mr Harry Potter, Head Auror Ronald Weasley, and Judge Susan Bones. You will also know, of course, that these laws were enacted due to the well known, though unadvertised corruption within the Auror Department during the years preceding the Second Bloodwar and as well as throughout the war. We paid special attention to the laws pertaining to the duties of an Auror who encounters a possible case of corruption within the department, namely from a superior. Article twenty-seven of that law states explicitly that an unlawful order must not be obeyed, and according to article twenty-eight the next in the chain of command has to be informed. In that light, I wasn't bound to the order of the Deputy, and I duly informed the Head Auror about what had happened. So, on what grounds do you base your threat of disciplinary actions against me, Madam Director?'

The audience gasped, and Harry almost leapt to his feet and applauded his old roommate.

Roper gaped at him, her face crimson. 'You -!'

A loud cough from her brother interrupted her. She jerked her head towards the source and faltered at her brother's hard stare.

'No more questions.' Roper swept back to her desk and sat down, crossed her arms and glared at the table in front of her, ignoring the ongoing whispers of the audience.

Harry chanced a glance at the judge's table. How were they receiving Dean's bold statement, especially Geoffrey Roper's pets Smith and Warrington?

They didn't look happy, that much was obvious. Smith frowned, albeit there was also a trace of uneasiness in his face, as if he hadn't understood all the implications of Dean's words. Well, that figured. Smith had always been of less than mediocre intelligence, yet full of himself. Warrington, on the other hand, was crimson, and the looks he gave Dean and Ron didn't bode well for either of them. Without any doubt Kingsley soon would have to deal with a made-up complaint about them.

'The defense again calls Unspeakable X into the witness stand.'

Anthony's voice interrupted Harry's musings, and he concentrated back on the trial.

'Unspeakable X, we just learned from Senior Auror Thomas that he handed you an evidence bag containing a used condom for examination. Is that right?'

'Yes, that's right.'

'How did you process the piece of evidence Senior Auror Thomas gave you?'

'Like I do with every piece of evidence I'm asked to examine. I listed the examination in the book of commissions of the department under the date and serial number, and then started the magical DNA-analysis.'

'Did the analysis come up with a match?'

'Not at once. I first compared the results with the database of our department, but came up empty. A few days later, however, Director Raymond Whiteford from Crystal Fairy Beauty Products approached me. He handed me a glass and a water bottle and asked me to examine them for fingerprints and DNA, compare the results with the probes we already had in the Weasley case, and inform Head Auror Weasley about the outcome.'

Everyone in the courtroom seemed to sit a little straighter and all noise ceased at this revelation as everyone waited with bated breath for what was coming next.

From behind, a large, freckled hand grabbed Harry's shoulder and held it. He turned around and exchanged a long look with his best friend. Too many things now hinged on this result, their case had now reached its final crucial phase.

Anthony made a dramatic pause, like lawyers did on every bad legal tv show Harry had ever seen. 'And what was the outcome?'

'We found fingerprints on the bottle as well as on the glass, and we isolated enough cell material from the rim of the glass to be able to conduct a magical DNA-analysis. The comparison of the fingerprints came up empty at first, the DNA from the glass, however, matched the DNA we obtained through the analysis of the contents of the condom found by Senior Auror Thomas. At the request of Head Auror Weasley, we cross referenced the fingerprints from the glass with the fingerprints we discovered on the anonymous letter, the pictures, and the envelope that contained them, evidence that was introduced to this case by the prosecution at the first day of court.'

The Unspeakable paused.

Harry suppressed a snort. What an actor, it looked like he was taking a leaf out of Anthony's playbook!

At the judge's table, Susan, Padma and Orphington leant forward, hanging on every word uttered by the two would-be thespians. Ogden and Carmichael, who had acted rather subdued, both perked up and also leaned forward, while the colour on Warrington's face deepened, and he exchanged a look full of fury with Geoffrey Roper. The only people involved in Daphne's trial not understanding the full implications of the Unspeakable's evidence seemed to be Zacharias Smith and to a lesser extent Eugenia Roper. Smith had his head tilted to the side, lips pursed and eyebrows squished together, and scratched his temple with his forefinger. Roper was not as obvious, her face showed a slight crease between her eyebrows, while she sat in her seat perpendicular to the table and tried to make eye contact with her brother.

The courtroom became so quiet you could have heard a pin drop.

'The fingerprints matched the third set on the anonymous letter, the one we can't identify yet. It is safe to say that the man the victim last had sexual intercourse with also sent the letter and the pictures.' The voice of the Unspeakable rang through the silent courtroom like a cannon blast.

'Thank you, Unspeakable X,' Anthony said into the lingering silence, thus preventing another outburst of the audience. 'Your witness, Madam Director,' he said over the whispers that flared up.

Roper made a dismissive gesture, yet it didn't deceive anyone in the room about the fact she was at a loss how to deal with the Unspeakable's evidence, and Anthony lost no time in calling his next witness.

'The defense calls Director Raymond Whiteford into the witness stand.'

The tension in the courtroom seemed to thicken with each second while Raymond walked towards the witness box and Susan cautioned him.

Harry cast a look at Williams.

The man was as white as a sheet.

Harry leaned back, he'd enjoy the spectacle that was coming. Williams was no fool, by now he must have added two and two together and would know they were hot on his heels. He deserved each moment of agony for what he'd done to Ginny. Hopefully he'd crack under the pressure and confess.

'Director Whiteford, is it true you handed a water bottle and a glass to the Department of Mysteries, asked to examine them for fingerprints and DNA, and further asked to compare the results with the evidence already obtained in the Weasley case?' Anthony asked.

'That is true.'

'What made you do this?'

'I've known Mrs Potter since she was a little girl who played under her father's desk while he worked at headquarters. You'd be hard pressed to find a gentler soul than her, so imagine my shock when Mr Potter told us she'd been arrested for the murder of Ginevra Weasley. To everyone who works with the Potters on a daily base it soon became apparent that the reasons for Mrs Potter's alleged crime that were purported by the press were little more than a smear campaign, most probably part of a larger scheme to obliterate their political influence on the Winzagemot and in our society.'

Once again, the audience became restless.

'Of course it was all a lie.' Raymonds next words were enough to quieten the noise down. 'The Potters are veritable lovebirds, everyone working at headquarters knows that.' He gave a rueful chuckle, "Although they've tried their best to be the ultimate professionals in our work environment they fooled no-one, their glances at each other linger, they never leave each other's presence without a small touch, their eyes smile more after they've been in each others company. It's the small things that we've all noticed, but we never drew their attention to it. I mean, what could one say? Excuse me Mr and Mrs Potter, but could you please stop subtly flirting with each other so that we can get down to business here?'

A round of chuckles went through the courtroom.

Harry's cheeks became warm, but he joined the laughter and gave Raymond a small nod to let him know he didn't take offense. He'd had no idea that he and Daphne were that obvious when in the office.

Anthony smiled at the man and gave him a gesture to continue at which Raymond's face lost its wistfulness. 'Immediately after Mrs Potter's arrest Mr Potter took a leave of absence for an undetermined period of time to support his wife and made me his proxy. The Potters then focussed solely on Mrs Potter's defence. About a week after the arrest Mr Potter contacted me and asked for a confidential meeting. In that meeting he revealed to me that the defense team had come up with several clues that pointed towards Ginevra Weasley's last lover being her murderer and needed a sample of his fingerprints and DNA to nail him. Mr Potter also told me the suspect was an employee of Crystal Fairy Beauty Products and asked for my assistance in obtaining the samples.'

'Who was that man?'

'Potion Master Morten Williams.'

In the witness bench, Williams jumped to his feet and made a desperate dash towards the doors. A red beam flashed through the courtroom, and Williams crashed to the ground before he'd taken more than five steps, felled by a precise Stunner from Dean.

Hell broke loose once again. Over the mayhem Harry gave a heartfelt nod of thanks at his former roommate. Dean winked back and shoved his wand into its holster.

'Cast a _Renervate_ on the witness and take him into custody.' Susan said as soon as she had restored order. 'The court is of the opinion that he would appear to be somewhat more involved in this case than was previously apparent.'

Anthony gave a polite bow towards the table of judges. 'Indeed, Your Honours. Please allow the defense to conclude the questioning of Director Whiteford. I would then like to call Mr Williams to the stand after that.'

Once again, a tense silence settled onto the courtroom while Anthony walked Raymond through how he had obtained the evidence from Williams and handed it to the Unspeakables.

The tension neared breaking point when Anthony said, 'The defense calls Mr Morten Williams to the witness stand.'

Gone was the confident surfer boy. Instead a shaking Morten Williams, his face as white as a sheet, entered the witness box. 'I demand to be questioned under Veritaserum!' he called, even before Susan had cautioned him.

A jolt of disquiet went through Harry, and Anthony looked visibly startled. They exchanged an apprehensive glance. They hadn't counted on that. Why was Williams calling for an interrogation under Veritaserum? Had they put all their chips on the wrong man?

Again, a tense silence settled on the courtroom while Williams took a dose of Veritaserum.

'Mr Williams, did you kill Ginervra Weasley?' Anthony asked.

'No, I didn't.' The words were slow and sluggish from the impact of the Truth Potion, though they had a palpable ring of sincerity.

Harry's stomach dropped and he slumped in his seat. Damn, they had been so sure! It was back to square one now, and what would this mean for Daphne's case? They probably had enough to forestall a unanimous vote of the judges, but everything depended on Susan, Orphington and Padma. He glanced at Warrington and Geoffrey Roper.

Both men had perked up at Williams' words. There was no doubt they saw their chance after they already thought all was lost. Damn! Harry wiped his moist hands on his robes.

'Did you spend the night from the eighteenth to the nineteenth of May with Ginevra Weasley?'

'Yes, I did, we'd started our… liaison about a week before that, on the night of the promotional party. That Monday Ginny invited me for dinner. Yes, we had sex in the dining room, and after that we went up to her bedroom for some more. It was a fling, nothing more, and I didn't mean to stay for the whole night. I must've fallen asleep, the next thing I know is a frantic Ginny shaking me awake and demanding I had to leave immediately because her life partner had entered the wards.' Thick beads of sweat ran down his cheeks, and his eyes flickered between Anthony and the judge's table.

'What happened then?'

'I scrambled out of bed, Ginny thrust my clothes at me and urged me to make a run of it. I dashed through the door while she vanished the condoms we'd used that night. I'd just made it through the private lounge in front of her bedroom and out onto the corridor when I heard someone stomping up the stairs. I slipped into one of the empty bedrooms on that floor and dressed in a hurry. A man passed that room and stomped on to Ginny's rooms. There was a loud bang from the doors to her parlour, I suppose he slammed them shut behind himself. I didn't wait to find out more, I slipped out of the bedroom and got the hell out of that house and to the Apparition point.'

Quite a lot in the audience sniggered, and even Anthony's lips twitched.

Williams acknowledged the sniggers with a withering glance at the audience.

'Around what time in the morning did your… uh… hasty retreat from Ms Weasley's bedroom occur?' Anthony asked, his lips still twitching.

'I have no idea. It was already light outside - wait, the clock in the entrance hall chimed eight as I rushed down the stairs.' Wiliams' eyes shot murderous daggers at Anthony.

'Can you give us a description of the man who Ms Weasley claimed to be her life partner?'

'Sorry, no, I never saw him,' Williams said with a shrug.

Anthony sighed. 'Thank you, Mr Williams, no more questions.'

He went to his place beside Daphne, and the two had a conversation behind a Privacy Ward, while Roper questioned Williams to no avail as she tried to confuse him about the date of the night he spent with Ginny and the time he left in the morning.

When an unhappy Roper returned to her seat, Anthony and Daphne still were absorbed into their discussion. Susan shot a spark from her wand at them; both jerked in surprise and Anthony lowered his ward.

'The court asks the defense to either proceed with their case or, if they are finished, we will move to closing arguments.'

For the first time since the beginning of the trial Anthony seemed to be at a loss of what to do next. He flipped through a couple sheets of parchment, his face marred by a frown that became more pronounced as he searched for something.

'Your Honours, the defence seems to be at a loss,' Roper called, a small smirk on her face as she lounged in her chair, looking somewhat relaxed for the first time that day.

'Mr Goldstein?' Susan prompted Anthony, her voice betraying no indication of her own thoughts.

Anthony's movements as he pushed back his chair and rose to announce his decision were uncharacteristically slow. He got a respite as the doors of the courtroom opened and an Unspeakable walked in, carrying a folder.

All eyes in the courtroom followed him as he walked to Unspeakable X in the witness bench, said something to him under a Privacy Ward, and handed him the folder.

Unspeakable X rose and addressed the court. 'Your Honours, I have just received the results from the magical DNA-analysis of the foreign skin samples found under the fingernails of the victim.'

Anthony's face visibly brightened at the announcement. 'The defense calls Unspeakable X into the witness stand.' His voice betrayed a good deal of relief.

The Unspeakable went to the witness box once again, and Anthony lost no time. 'Unspeakable X, could you please detail the results of the analysis from the skin found under the victim's fingernails?'

The audience, which had grasped the significance of magical DNA-analysis faster than Roper, listened with bated breath.

'We managed to separate the sample into the DNA of three different individuals. For the first two, we found matches in our database. Not surprising, the first sample matched with the DNA of the victim. The second match belonged to Mr Williams. Compared to the third sample, this sample was rather small. However, it's no surprise, either, given that he admitted he spent the night with Ms Weasley and the other clues we found on her body indicated that their union must've been rather… passionate.'

Williams, two Aurors still watching him, slumped in his seat at the Unspeakable's verdict and let out a deep breath.

'What about the third sample?'

The Unspeakable raised his hands, palms upwards, in a gesture of regret. 'I am sorry to say that we had no match to the sample in our database. What I can say, however, is that the DNA belongs to a male of partly African descent.'

The metaphorical light bulb went on in Harry's brain and his eyes moved to Zabini. Was this the break-through?

Anthony stiffened, his face hardened, and he pivoted. His gaze also turned to Ginny's dark-skinned lover. 'I think the defense can come up with a party of interest.'

There! Did the man give an infinitesimal twitch? Harry fought down the urge to stand up, instead he scooted forward on his seat to have a better look. No, his eyes must have been deceiving him, Zabini's face seemed as stoney as ever. He leaned back and sighed. Was that man just an exceptionally skiĺled Occlumens or were they wrong to suspect him?

'No more questions. Madam Director?' Anthony said, and Harry turned his attention back to the trial.

Roper had listened to the statement of the Unspeakable as raptly as the audience. Her glance followed Anthony's, lingered on Zabini, and turned from there to Daphne. A calculating light slowly appeared in her eyes. 'The prosecution has no questions at this time.'

'The defense calls Mr Blaise Zabini into the witness stand.'

Zabini stood up and walked towards the witness box. His face still was stoic.

Harry narrowed his eyes. Was there a faint sheen of sweat on Zabini's upper lip?

As soon as Zabini had sat down, Anthony turned to the judge's table. 'The defense asks that the witness will be questioned under Veritaserum.'

Susan turned to her fellow judges and opened her mouth. She hadn't uttered even one word when Warrington and Smith already nodded, and Ogden and Carrington hurried to follow their example.

Harry sneered. So, the rats were leaving the sinking ship. Tomorrow, the Ropers, Warrington and Smith probably all would claim that they'd suspected Zabini right from the beginning and that the trial against Daphne had been an elaborate scheme of the prosecution to draw him out.

Anthony waited until the Truth Potion took effect and came straight to the point.

'Mr Zabini, did you kill Ginevra Weasley?'

Zabini's jaw clenched tight in an obvious fight to prevent the words from escaping him, tendons strained in his neck, and his eyes glared holes in Anthony. At last, he lost the battle and his mouth opened. 'Yes, I did!'

His statement was met with dead silence, then bedlam ensued.

'Nooooo!' Molly's distraught wail echoed through the courtroom and broke Harry's heart. The next moment she slumped against her husband. Arthur glared at Zabini with a hatred Harry never would've expected from the gentle man.

Under the cover of the excited exclamations of the public Harry's eyes turned to Daphne. She continued to sit bolt upright, nothing in her posture betrayed the relief she must feel at Zabini's confession. He tried to emulate her example while his whole body seemed to become light and limp from the sudden lift of pressure. It was over, his thumping heart sang. Zabini had confessed to Ginny's murder under Veritaserum, the jury had no grounds to continue the case against Daphne any longer.

'Why?' Anthony's voice broke into his jubilant thoughts.

Again Zabini struggled to keep his mouth closed, succeeding for several heartbeats. Still, the potion was stronger. 'We had a pact, Ginny and I. She'd attract the rich blokes, marry them, and strip them of a good deal of their gold, whilst I was managing her career, her finances and making the most of her gold via investments. It was meant to be temporary, until we had enough gold to last us for a lifetime. We'd reached that point after Ginny's fourth divorce. Ginny…' His voice broke, he bit his lip as if to hold back the words and grimaced.

'What about Ginny?' Anthony's voice was calm, yet there was a hint of steel in it that indicated he wouldn't let go.

'Ginny didn't agree.' Zabini breathed hard, as if the words cost him a lot of effort. This time he hardly seemed to even try to fight the potion, though his face was still set. 'She said she still had a score to settle with Potter and insisted on returning to England. I begged her not to, to let bygones be bygones. I might as well have been talking to a wall, Ginny was stubborn as soon as her mind was made up. So, I reluctantly agreed to return with her to England, although I knew it was a mistake. I knew it would destroy her… us.' He covered his face with the palms of his hands.

'What happened next?'

Zabini lowered his hands. The stoic man was gone, in front of them sat a man who'd gone through hell and looked like it. 'She tried to win Potter back and failed miserably. Ginny still lived in the past, she refused to believe that Potter had changed, but anyone who had eyes could see that Potter had moved on long ago. That man is head over heels in love with his own wife. I told Ginny, tried to make her see reason… She wouldn't listen. Then she met that _stronzo*_.' He turned and glared at Williams.

Williams recoiled under the wrath in his eyes.

'Ginny thought him just what she needed to make Potter jealous and began an affair with him. I was furious, never before had she started something without my consent. I tried to talk to her, tried to make her see reason… It was all in vain. She was determined to continue on the path she'd chosen. Then came the last straw.' He interrupted himself, licked his lips and pressed them together in a thin line, as if preventing himself from telling more.

A knowing grin appeared on Harry's face. So, Zabini was fighting the infamous, Veritaserum-induced word vomit? Good luck with that, Anthony was a much more skilled interrogator than Roper, he wouldn't let Zabini get away with that.

'What else happened?' Anthony's steely voice indicated he wasn't willing to let go before he knew all the reasons why Ginny had to die.

Zabini let out a strange noise, a mix between a groan and a sob. His hands curled into fists, and he glared at Anthony. Yet, the Veritaserum was stronger. 'Ginny somehow found out that Williams had gold, loads of gold. She was more determined than ever to use him. She… she dumped me. Me, the man who'd helped her to get out of that hovel her family calls a house! Me, who'd made her the top female Quidditch star of the world. She didn't even have the decency to tell me in person, she sent me a bloody owl. I went to see her, I didn't care about the time of the day. She was in her bedroom, alone, but it was clear she'd had male company not long ago. She ordered me out of the room, as if I was a house elf she could bully around. I became angry, told her I wouldn't allow her to treat me like a used doormat…' The knuckles on his hands stood out white, as if he was under an unbearable strain he couldn't shake off.

'She threatened to rat me out, tell the Aurors everything about the illegal businesses of my family, how I used her and her fame to laundry money for them.'

Harry flinched back in his seat at the venom in Zabini's voice. The whispers in the courtroom flared up once again. He ignored them, his eyes were on Molly and Arthur.

Arthur's face was pale and grim, yet composed. Zabini's statement wasn't news to him, Bill, Greco and the Goblins of Gringotts had found out everything about Zabini's and Ginny's dubious businesses and shared it with Anthony. Molly, however, hadn't been willing to listen to reason, and most likely would've run to Dawlish and Roper with their findings, so they'd kept her in the dark. She listened to Zabini's devastating statement, her eyes wide, red spots on her pale cheeks, and her hands pressed against her heart.

Harry averted his eyes. He'd have spared her this if he could. However, she had made her own bed, with her false, grief-driven accusations against Daphne, and with her stubbornness, she'd refused to believe in the possibility of another suspect, no matter what Arthur, Bill, or Ron told her. She had no-one to blame other than herself for the hard blows striking down on her now. Their relationship would never be the same again. It would be near impossible to forget what she had nearly done to Daphne and their baby -.

A harsh laugh from Zabini brought him back to the present. The dark-skinned man sneered at Anthony. 'That little backstabbing _fica**_! As if she hadn't been in on the plan right from the beginning! Her earnings as a Quidditch player and model alone never would've paid for her lifestyle.' His voice was full of venom.

Harry suppressed a sigh. From the results of the investigations of Ginny's finances they already knew that, but it was something entirely different to hear Zabini spill the beans with a hate-filled voice in front of the curious ears of the wizarding public.

'So, your motive to kill her wasn't just hurt pride and jealousy, you also killed her out of greed because she endangered the steady flow of Galleons into your pockets?' Anthony asked in a calm voice.

'Way to go, Anthony!' Justin muttered under his breath.

A small smile played around Harry's lips. Anthony was good, indeed. He wanted to make sure Zabini wouldn't get away with extenuating circumstances. Hurt pride and jealousy were feelings most - male - judges could understand and relate to, at least to a certain degree. With a good barrister pleading extenuating circumstances and some luck Zabini would face nothing more than a limited sentence in a low security ward of Azkaban based on that, ten years maximum perhaps, certainly not more. A murder out of greed was something else, however. Azkaban for life was the only possible outcome. He held his breath. Would Zabini fall for the trap in his Veritaserum-induced state?

'Yes… yes! The bint deserved it! Nobody crosses a Zabini!' he shouted. His mouth snapped shut, and he looked around with wild eyes as the implication of his words hit him.

Harry almost pumped his fist into the air. Anthony had nailed the bastard!

Anthony didn't as much as permit himself the slightest hint of a triumphant smile. 'No more questions.' He quirked an eyebrow at Roper.

She gaped at him for a long moment, then shut her mouth and shook her head.

Anthony turned towards the judge's table. 'In the light of Mr Zabini's confession of having murdered Ms Weasley the defence moves that all charges against Mrs Potter be withdrawn and that she be free to leave and her wand being returned to her.'

'The prosecution withdraws all charges,' Roper said before Susan could turn to her fellow judges to get their votes. 'We also ask that the court allows us to arrest Mr Zabini _in situ_ and that he remain in custody until his trial.'

'Trust Roper to manage to find something useful in the dregs of a cauldron and salvage what little reputation she has left!' Ron snorted behind Harry.

Harry gave a faint nod. Right now he couldn't care less for Roper, he'd take care of her later. All that mattered was the verdict of the court. He couldn't wait to take Daphne home and leave this nightmare behind them…

He returned his focus to the judges where Susan was in the middle of what appeared to be a very short conference with her fellow judges. She dropped her privacy ward and banged her gavel. 'Both motions sustained!' She turned to Daphne. 'Will the defendant please rise.'

She waited until Daphne shakily stood next to Anthony. 'You are free to go, Mrs Potter. On behalf of the court I am sorry you had to go through this ordeal.' She sent a death glare at the two Ropers and Dawlish. 'Rest assured that this travesty of a prosecution case will have a sequel in court that will also include an investigation into the actions of some members on the panel of judges.' Her death glare wandered over the judge's bench, and Warrington blanched visibly.

Harry didn't wait for anything further, he jumped to his feet, rushed to Daphne's side and swept her into his arms.

Daphne slumped against him and buried her head in his chest. 'Is it… is it really over?'

'Yes, my love.' He dropped a kiss in her hair and tightened his arms around her. From far, far away there were amused chuckles from the judges and the audience. He couldn't care less.

They stood like that for a long moment, until a commotion in the courtroom made them raise their heads.

Zabini, still in the witness box, was struggling against two Aurors who had advanced on him to arrest him. He yanked one arm free, stuck a hand into the pocket of his robes and pulled out a small vial. He raised it to his lips, bit off the cork, and emptied the vial with one gulp. His eyes glazed over, he slumped back into his seat, his head lolled back, and his empty eyes stared up to the vaulted ceiling of the courtroom.

Everyone in the room froze.

'What the fuck?' Anthony's voice broke the silence after what seemed like an eternity.

The Unspeakable awoke from his stupor. He rose, walked over to the witness box, pulled out his wand and waved it across Zabini in a complicated pattern. An array of black runes appeared in the air.

The Unspeakable turned towards the judge's table. 'He is dead, he poisoned himself.'

For once, Susan seemed to be at a loss for words. Her gavel mid-air, she gaped at the Unspeakable.

Still, nobody said a word.

Ron rose to his feet and addressed the two Aurors who stood next to Zabini's body. 'Creevey, Jones, conjure a stretcher, please, and bring his body to the Department of Mysteries. I want a full autopsy by the day after tomorrow, at the latest, I also want his DNA run against those samples.'

'Yes, Head Auror Weasley,' one of the Aurors murmured. He flicked his wand, a stretcher appeared out of thin air, and together with his partner he levitated Zabini's body onto the stretcher and covered it up. Followed by the Unspeakable, the two Aurors levitated the stretcher out of the courtroom. The tall doors banged shut behind them, the sound echoing through the quiet room like a clap of thunder.

Susan lowered her gavel for a final bang. 'Case dismissed.'

As if one man, the reporters jumped to their feet and rushed out of the courtroom in a race to deliver the sensationalist news first to their respective editorial offices.

The visitors scrambled to their feet and slowly drifted out of the courtroom, while they talked in loud, excited voices about the surprising finale of the trial of the century.

Ron brushed his way past Harry and Daphne, he didn't even stop to congratulate them. His lips pursed in a thin white line and a deep frown on his face, his attention was trained on Dawlish. As soon as he reached his Deputy, he raised a Privacy Ward. His ears slowly turned a deep shade of red as he gave the man what appeared to be a dressing down that had him recoiling in his seat.

'Couldn't happen to a more deserving git,' Anthony said with a grin and gathered his papers to put them into his briefcase.

Harry took a deep breath, as if awakening from a bad dream. One arm still around Daphne, he pulled Anthony into a one-armed hug. 'Anthony… I don't have the words… Thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart!'

'You're welcome,' the young barrister said in a cheerful voice and patted his back in return. 'After all, it is my job.'

Daphne disentangled herself from Harry's arms and turned towards Anthony. 'Thank you,' she said with a breaking voice and gave him a tight hug.

'Anytime.' Anthony returned the hug and then gently pushed her back into Harry's arms. 'Take your wife home, Harry.'

 _t.b.c._

* * *

* _stronzo = scumbag_

 _**fica = cunt_

 _Lol, in Italian even foul expletives sound good._


	102. Chapter 99

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** A huge THANK YOU to my faithful editor Shygui, who still sticks with me and this story after almost two years. You are simply the best, my friend!

I'm sorry for the infrequent updates, RL got me into its clutches. My writing time is reduced to almost nothing. There's hope things will get better in January.

Chapter **99** , 20/11/19

* * *

 **99**

 _ **The Ministry of Magic, June 5th 2008**_

Nicholas Greco allowed himself to drift out of the courtroom with the crowd. Instead of following the masses towards the elevators and the staircase to get out of the ministry, he maneuvered himself from the river of humanity and stopped next to the tall doors. He'd wait here for the Potters and Goldstein to come out of the courtroom, to congratulate them on their victory over the still corrupt legal system.

It was a matter of courtesy as well as a calculated business move. Goldstein had just proven beyond any shadow of a doubt that he was a brilliant barrister, and the Potter case would give his career a stratospheric boost. He'd be in need of a private investigator for a lot of his future cases, so it wouldn't hurt to be on good terms with the man. And if he'd read Mr Potter's expressions and body language during the trial correctly, hunting season was upon them and Dawlish, the Roper siblings and Warrington were fair game. He'd need someone to dig up the dirt and the skeletons they had without any doubt left in their wake, and obtain the evidence in a way that would hold up in a Wizengamot investigation.

He craned his neck to have a look into the courtroom. The room was now fairly empty; the Potters and Goldstein still stood next to the defendant's bench, exchanging pleasantries. He sighed, resigned himself to another couple of minutes of waiting, and let his eyes meander around the courtroom.

Head Auror Weasley was still berating Dawlish behind a Privacy Ward. The Deputy didn't look as if he was relishing the experience by any stretch of the imagination.

Nicholas grinned; the Weasley temper was legendary in the magical world, and while Head Auror Weasley had the reputation of being an easygoing head of department who regularly joined his subordinates for a pint of butterbeer in the Leaky Cauldron, on this occasion he was showing that he was a true son of Molly Weasley.

At the thought of the matriarch of the Weasley clan Nicholas sobered. The woman had caused so much grief with her unfounded accusations and the way she'd allowed Dawlish and Roper to play her like a cheap dissimulator. Besides the pain she had caused the Potters her behaviour had also caused a rift in her own family. It would be interesting to see whether the Weasleys ever get over that. He cast a surreptitious glance at Molly and Arthur, who hadn't left the courtroom yet.

Molly Weasley still sat on her seat behind the prosecution's bench, her head into her husband's shoulder she seemed to be crying. Her children and their spouses were gathered around them, comforting both of their parents with soft, murmured words and tender touches, even if some of those touches seemed to be somewhat strained.

While Nicholas still looked at the family moment, Head Auror Weasley finally let go of his unfortunate deputy. He turned around to his family, let out a deep sigh, and ran a hand through his hair as if to calm himself down. His gaze fell on his mother, and his merry blue eyes hardened for a moment. He let out another deep sigh, his face softened, and he stepped behind his parents. After only a moment's hesitation he put a hand on his mother's shoulder.

Nicholas let out the breath he'd been holding, and a soft warmth blossomed in his chest. It seemed there was hope the Weasley clan would get over this disaster, it might take some time, but their strong bonds as a family and their love for each other would help them to overcome the tragedy and mend the fences Molly's unreasonable, yet somewhat understandable behaviour had caused.

But how would the tragedy influence their relationship with the Potters? Mr Potter had always been like a seventh son to the Weasleys, and there was no doubt he loved his surrogate family. Yet his feelings for his wife were much stronger, as his passionate statement in her defense during the trial had made evident. Would he be willing to make a new start and let bygones be bygones?

The Potters and Goldstein finally decided it was time to leave the courtroom and ambled towards the doors, Goldstein in the lead and the Potters following him arm in arm at a slower pace.

Molly Weasley raised her head from her husband's shoulder and looked at the young couple, her expression an odd mix of determination and shame. 'Daphne, Harry, please wait... There's… something I'd like to say to you both.'

Mr Potter's step froze, and his face hardened. Neither did he turn his head around, nor did he deign an answer to Molly Weasley's plea. The next moment he propelled his wife forward with a gentle pressure of his arm around her waist.

Molly Weasley's face scrunched up as if she was about to burst into a new bout of tears. Her husband and children followed the little drama with varying degrees of dismay, yet no-one made a motion to interfere on behalf of their mother or wife.

Nicholas sighed, probably they thought, with good reason, that Molly had brought Mr Potter's wrath upon herself and deserved whatever course of action he'd chosen.

Mrs Potter, however, slowly at first, resisted the soft pressure of her husband. She halted her steps, put her free hand on his chest, turned, and spoke to him in such a low voice that perhaps nobody except Mr Potter could understand a word.

He listened to her, his expression softened somewhat, although it still reminded Nicholas of a very stubborn donkey he'd had the misfortune to ride during a memorable visit to the island of Santorini in Greece, and shook his head.

His wife's cheeks flushed, and she stomped her small foot, clad in stylish high heels, on the ground.

Nicholas suppressed a grin, it looked rather hilarious. Slowly her voice became audible as Mrs Potter's visible frustrations with her recalcitrant husband's attitude mounted.

'Harry James Potter, quit being an insufferable git! Yes, I know we went through hell because of Molly's unfounded accusations. However, it's not her fault alone, things never would've got to this point if the Ropers and Dawlish weren't such power-hungry arses. Any Auror who knew how to do his job would've taken her statements into consideration, but would have soon discovered that the evidence didn't match her accusations and that would have been the end of it. They would have discarded them as the grief-driven wrong conclusions of a mother who'd lost a child and wanted to lash out. You can't blame the outcome solely on Molly, Harry!'

Mr Potter's face didn't lose its mulish expression, although he didn't look his wife into the eyes; he'd averted his glance and contemplated his shoes.

Mrs Potter let out a small huff, raised her hand, took his chin between her fingers, and turned his face until he was forced to look at her. 'Molly wronged me, yes, but she's also the mother and mother-in-law of four of our best friends, friends who have become family to us, especially since Father, Mother and Tori are no longer with us. We'll put them and their father and siblings into a very awkward situation if we were to continue to hold a grudge against Molly. They'd be forced to choose between us or their mother; that's a fine way to thank them for the support they gave us, honey!'

Her husband still didn't look convinced.

'Harry please… Stop being so stubborn. The Weasleys are quite literally the only family we have left, I won't allow this greek tragedy to cause a rift between us, I don't want our daughter to grow up without loving uncles and aunts and surrogate grandparents. I want her to have a big family, not just the two of us.'

Mr Potter's rigid posture relaxed and his resigned sigh rang through the courtroom. 'I'd like that, too,' he said in such a low voice that Nicholas had to strain his ears to understand him. He gave his wife a weak smile and spoke in a voice laced with pain and anguish, 'Alright, darling, you're right, I'm being somewhat stubborn, but this nearly crushed you, honey… No, crushed us, I was this close,' he held up his thumb and forefinger with a small gap between them, 'to losing you and I cannot live in a world where you don't exist.' He finished by resting his forehead against that of his wife. 'But for you and only you I will try.'

Mrs Potter placed her hands either side of his face and lifted his head so that she was looking into his eyes, tears leaking down the side of her face. She raised on her tiptoes and kissed him sweetly and softly on the lips. 'Thank you.'

Nicholas bit on the insides of his cheeks. Mrs Potter hardly ever let it on, but this little scene was a reminder she was a Slytherin to the core. She'd used an opportunity to her best advantage: at the present moment her husband wouldn't deny her anything, no matter how angry he was at Molly Weasley and wanted to show it.

The young couple turned towards Molly Weasley, who had listened to their exchange twisting her hands all the time, and her face becoming paler by the minute. When they looked at her, something like hope lit up in her eyes. She took a deep breath and moved towards them, halting a couple of paces from the couple where she stood, trembling that hard that she had to support herself on the backrest of the seat next to her.

Not a soul moved as Molly spoke, first quietly, but with growing strength, tears streaking down her cheeks. 'Daphne, there aren't words to tell you how sorry I am. I never should have accused you, despite the… lies Ginny told me about her renewed relationship with Harry and your alleged resistance to Harry's wish to leave you. I don't know what I've been thinking, Harry was so obviously happy with you all these years, and yet, when Ginny told me about their alleged plans to live together, I couldn't help but root for my daughter and see the enemy in you who stood in the way of her happiness. I…' Her voice broke, and a new wave of fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.

Mrs Potter disentangled herself from her husband's arms, stepped towards her, and hugged her. The two women remained like that for a long time and had a whispered conversation. When Mrs Potter let go off Molly Weasley, her face was wet, but both women had tentative smiles on their faces.

She turned to her husband, took his hand, and pulled him towards Molly Weasley.

He followed her almost willingly, albeit his taut face suggested he'd not be as forgiving as his wife.

Molly Weasley faltered under his stare.

A jolt seemed to go through Mr Potter, he exhaled and his posture lost some of its stiffness. He made one step towards Mrs Weasley and put a hand on her shoulder in an awkward movement.

That was all the encouragement Molly Weasley needed, the next second she swept the young man in a bone-crushing hug.

'Molly, let go of me… can't breathe,' he groaned through the chuckles of his wife and the other members of the Weasley clan who surrounded them, yet he raised his hands and patted Molly Weasley's back.

When she at last let go of him, her face once again was wet with fresh tears, but they both smiled, although Mr Potter's still seemed somewhat forced. They exchanged a few words, yet again too low for anyone outside of their circle to understand, and Mr Potter stepped towards his wife, put his arm around her waist and led her towards the door of the courtroom with a last nod towards the Weasleys.

Nicholas let out a deep breath; it was about time. While the Potter case was another feather in his cap, there was no denying he'd neglected his other clients over the demands of this case, and the work was piling up in his office. He really needed to get home, not to mention that Elizabeth also would be delighted to see more of him -

The hallway in front of the courtroom had emptied while the Potters reconciled with Molly Weasley. The torches at the wall sent eerie flickers across the tubular room, and the shadows behind the pillars that supported the ceiling seemed to be as black as night.

From the corner of his eye Nicholas caught the flicker of movement as a lighter shadow seemed to scurry behind one of the pillars opposite of the open doors of the courtroom. He jerked his head around and peered into the darkness. Was there someone standing behind the pillar? He strained his eyes even more.

The shadows danced and moved together in the flickering light of the torches; just as he was about to turn away a human figure materialised, with a wand in its hand. He stiffened. Was that wand aimed at Mrs Potter?

The hairs on Nicholas' neck and arms raised. Without thinking twice he stepped into the doorway, as if meeting the Potters who'd almost reached the entrance of the courtroom where Goldstein waited for them, thus making himself an obstacle between Mrs Potter and whoever it was lurking in the shadows, while he kept his head at an angle that enabled him to watch the shadows behind the pillar from the corner of his eye.

The Potters had almost reached him when the now moving shadow emerged from behind the pillar and crossed the torch-lit space of the hallway with long strides, only to disappear in the elevator the next second.

Nicholas stiffened and stared at the rising elevator for a long second. Why was Morten Williams lurking in the shadows, waiting for Mrs Potter? Had he really aimed his wand at Mrs Potter, or had that been an optical illusion, caused by the flickering torches? It seemed far fetched, the easygoing surfer boy was the last person on earth he'd think capable of something like that. Then again, he'd been exposed to public ridicule during his witness testimony. Did he want to take revenge for that? Nicholas frowned. Maybe Mrs Potter hadn't been his intended target, but Mr Goldstein.

He exhaled, and the muscles of his neck relaxed. Yes, that seemed more likely. He'd have to have a word with Goldstein about that. Yet a trace of uneasiness remained and nagged away at his thoughts.

'Mr Greco! I'd like to thank you for your excellent work.'

Nicholas turned around.

Anthony Goldstein came towards him with an outstretched hand and a broad smile on his face, closely followed by the Potters.

He took the offered hand. 'Thank you, Mr Goldstein. Realistically I just picked up the clues Dawlish chose to overlook.'

'What an apt choice of words,' Mr Potter said. He took Nicholas' hand after Goldstein had let go of and shook it vigorously. 'Mr Greco, there are no words that can truly convey my gratitude for what you've done for my family. I most assuredly won't forget your service.'

Warmth spread in Nicholas' chest as he reciprocated the handshake of the younger man. The Potters were such a likeable young couple, and both had been through more than their share of horrible events in their young lives. The knowledge he'd helped them to successfully battle the forces that had wanted to destroy them was already a huge reward in itself. Anything else would just be icing on the cake. Aloud he said, 'It was an honour, Mr Potter. What are your plans now?'

The younger man once again slipped his arm around his wife's waist. 'I'll take Daphne home and make sure she'll get some rest. With all the press out to get statements from us, we'll probably stay behind the wards of _The Rectory_ for the foreseeable future. Maybe we'll go on a holiday as soon as things have calmed down a bit.' He looked down at his wife. 'What do you think, love?'

'I suppose it would be of no use to tell you I'm pregnant and not terminally ill,' she said with a small laugh and snuggled against her husband. 'Although a holiday sounds nice, you won't find me fighting that idea.'

Nicholas joined their laughter and let out an involuntary breath. He'd hate to spoil their apparent happiness, yet he still wasn't able to shake off the uneasiness that the little scene with Williams had cause within him. Had Mrs Potter been the intended target? There was no way to be sure, he'd have to go home and give this new problem some thought. At least the Potters would be safe behind the wards of _The Rectory._

 _t.b.c._


	103. Chapter 100

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Many thanks to my editor extraordinaire Shygui. As always, he did a fantastic job.

Chapter **100** only, 26/11/19

* * *

 **100**

 _ **The Rectory, June 5th 2008**_

Would he ever again be able to let her out of his sight? Harry cast a look at the sleeping form of his wife, bathed in the golden rays of the late afternoon sun, and a small smile tugged at the edges of his lips.

She'd never let it on, of course, but he knew that the trial had taken a lot out of Daphne, she had been fraying at the edges and he'd felt powerless to stop those tugging at her loose ends. The moment they arrived at _The Rectory,_ she'd changed from the formal suit and robes she'd worn to court into something more comfortable, and then settled down in her favourite sofa in the conservatory. To unwind, as she'd announced, but her eyes were already lidded and heavy. Not even five minutes had elapsed before she was sound asleep.

He'd sat down in the chair next to her, content to watch over her sleep. That had been two hours ago, and he'd as good as never averted his eyes from her. His lips curved fully into a wry smile. No doubt Daphne would have a few choice words on his bout of over-protectiveness if she ever found out. He needed to get a grip on himself, she wouldn't thank him for stifling her -

Daphne gave a low moan and stretched, and Harry sat upright. Her wonderful eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, and with a bright smile in them as she recognised him. 'Hello handsome.'

Her voice, still husky from sleep, sent a pleasant shiver down his back. He bent down and kissed her. 'Hello, sleeping beauty. Are you feeling better?'

'Much better.' She rewarded him with a blinding smile, swung her legs over the edge of the sofa and sat up, stretching her arms over her head with a huge yawn.

The pink glow in her cheeks lent credence to her words, albeit there were still faint lines of stress around her eyes and her mouth. With lots of rest and pampering they hopefully would be gone soon, he'd see to that, he had every intention to spoil her rotten and fully intended to ignore her protest whilst doing so.

She gave him a shrewd side glance. 'What are you planning, honey?' Her eyes narrowed into a fake glare. 'Don't deny it, I know that look!'

'Me? Colour me innocent and harmless.'

She snorted, moved from the sofa onto his lap, straddling him, and looked at him with mirthful eyes as she wrapped her arms around him. 'Out with it, mister.'

'Oh, I was just thinking about ways to spoil you rotten.' He slid his arms around her still narrow waist and gave a peck on her nose.

She made a face, but was all smiles the next moment. 'I was afraid of something like that. Oh well, as long as you don't overdo it, right now I'm not at all averse to the idea of being pampered.'

'I knew you'd see reason.' He leaned towards her to give her a proper kiss. A growling sound from Daphne's stomach stopped him and he smiled into her lips. 'Uh oh!'

'I'm hungry,' she said.

'That's kinda obvious, honey.' Another weight seemed to roll off his chest. His mouth curved into an amused smile that hid his relief. It was about time for her to eat properly again, he'd been seriously concerned about her lack of appetite. 'Shall I tell Mipsy to prepare something for you?'

She pondered his suggestion, her head tilted to one side, her eyes unfocused for a moment, then came to a conclusion. 'It feels as if I've been locked up here at _The Rectory_ for ages, so I'd rather go out tonight. What about _Da Cosimo?_ I'm craving some decent Italian food.'

'As my lady commands.' He leaned in and gave her another kiss. 'I'm glad your infamous appetite is back.'

'Prat!' She gave him a light slap on the arm and slid from his lap to go to their room and get changed.

One hour later Harry escorted his wife into _Da Cosimo._ The restaurant was situated in a converted mews building in Mayfair; as a tribute to the original use of the building the interior designer had decorated the restaurant with box-like partitions around the room. Each one held a table for four and was separated from its neighbour by a breast-high wall of wooden panels in the lower two-thirds, topped with dainty wrought-iron lattice work that enabled a full view of the restaurant, but gave an illusion of privacy nevertheless. Two benches, upholstered in bright and sunny yet earthy colours that reminded Harry of the holidays he and Daphne had spent in Tuscany, were built into the wooden walls opposite of each other.

The maitre d' greeted Harry and Daphne as valued customers and led them to their usual place in one of the boxes in a corner of the ground floor. Daphne slid into one of the benches, Harry sat down opposite of her, his back to the whitewashed wall, and accepted the menu the maitre d' handed him.

Daphne looked around the cozy restaurant with a content sigh as she opened her menu. 'It feels good to be somewhat back to normal.'

'I hear you there.' He smiled at her over the open menu in his hands. 'Anything special you want to do in the next couple of weeks? I was serious when I told Greco we're going to take some time off.'

'Sounds lovely.' Her gaze became mischievous. 'Well, first thing on my agenda is shopping.'

Harry groaned. 'I take it all back.'

Her dimples deepened. 'And here I thought you'd be ecstatic when I tell you my trousers are becoming uncomfortably tight in the waist.'

His stomach fluttered, and his breath hitched in his throat. He'd forgotten... This was really happening, wasn't it? He couldn't remember - how many years had he hoped in vain to be on the receiving end of his wife's complaints about the many aches and pains that came along with a pregnancy? He reached across the table for her hand and linked his fingers with hers. 'You're right, I am ecstatic. I can't wait to hear you complain about your swollen ankles, and that you look like a beached whale -'

'Ugh, do you have to remind me?'

They laughed. Daphne extricated her hand from his and returned to the menu in her hand. 'I think I'll have the _bruschetta al_ _pomodori_ for starters and _lasagna_ _al_ _forno_ afterwards. Maybe some _tiramisu_ for dessert, if I still have room for that.'

'I'm sure you'll manage.' Harry smirked and signalled for the waiter to take their orders.

That got him a mock-pout from his wife, to which he replied with a grin. Warmth spread in his chest, and he let out a deep breath. Daphne was right, it was good to have normality again.

Over their meal they made plans for their holiday. As much as they both loved _The Rectory,_ the house had become somewhat of a prison to Daphne over the last couple of weeks. Even worse, their residence was well known to the magical world, so their beloved walks in the countryside outside of the wards of the house were completely out of the question: they'd be besieged by the magical press as soon as they set one foot outside.

At last they agreed on a couple of weeks at the Greengrass vacation home in France. They hadn't been there once after that horrible night Poupette, the Greengrass house elf who cared for the house, had told them that their family had gone missing during the Portkey ride from Kent to Nice, Daphne couldn't bear it.

Harry waited until the waiter had cleared away their empty plates. 'What's different now, darling?' He grabbed for her hand across the table and stroked his thumb against hers. 'What's made you change your mind?'

A sound from the table opposite of him made him look up, and Daphne turned her head to look over her shoulder.

A young man supported himself on the flat of the table, obviously he'd stumbled over his own feet when he slid into the bench, and just barely prevented himself from faceplanting. At the gazes of the Potters he turned red, mumbled an apology and sat down.

There was nothing remarkable about him, he was just another young man like million others in London: on the smaller side, with plain features and mouse-coloured hair, and eyes of no discernable colour.

Yet there was something about him that made the hairs at the nape of Harry's neck stand up. He seemed familiar, yet he was all wrong. He listened with only half an ear to Daphne's answer.

'I don't know, I am different, I suppose.' Her other hand went instinctively over her stomach and she gave him a contented little smile, 'Being pregnant makes me think of all the happy times with my family. We used to spend summers there, Mother, Tori, and I, and Father came every weekend and stayed with us for at least two weeks each summer when he took his time off. He taught us how to swim at the pool there, he went sailing with us on the sea, and Tori and I played hide and seek in the pine wood surrounding the house. I want to build our own family traditions, but I also want our daughter to experience some of the adventures of my childhood.'

'That would be nice, I'd like that, too.' He played with the fingers of her hand, his attention still on the man in the adjoining booth, although he had his eyelids lowered. His gut still signalled danger; if he was right, it wouldn't do to alert him, and if he was wrong, it won't do to embarrass a complete stranger by staring at him.

Daphne creased her eyebrow. 'Is something wrong, Harry?'

'I'm not sure.' Damn, he didn't want to worry her, and yet… His eyes never left the stranger.

The man flipped his wrist in an all-too-familiar movement, and the next moment he held a wand in his hand.

Harry's heart seemed to stop, and his stomach dropped into a bottomless pitch.

The stranger raised his wand, there was a cruel glitter in his eyes, and his mouth twisted into a cold sneer.

'DAPH, DUCK!' Harry yelled as he released her hand and flicked his own wrist.

'AVADA KEDAVRA!'

 _t.b.c._

* * *

Please, don't shoot me. ;)


	104. Chapter 101

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Another round of applause for Shygui, please. He went three times through this chapter until it was hair-raising enough to meet his approval. (I told you I'd re-direct the guns into your direction.;))

Although I hope you'll shoot neither Shygui nor me for this chapter. I've finally typed the magical words "The End" under chapter 103. Neither will Shygui be able to edit if you shoot him, nor will I be able to post if you shoot me, and you'll never find out how this story ends. ;)

Chapter **101,** 28/11/19

* * *

 **101**

 _ **Nicholas Greco's house, June 5th 2008**_

Nicholas sat in his study, his tie pulled off and thrown into a corner of his desk, a glass of firewhiskey next to his elbow instead of a cup of tea, and the ledger that contained his bookkeeping in front of him. It was self-updating, thank Merlin, and showed a new entry whenever a payment was made into his business vault at Gringotts. The goblins, those greedy bastards, took a hefty fee for this service, but it was worth every single Knut. He'd be hard pressed to find the time to do his accounting on top of all his work. It wouldn't be fair to ask Elizabeth to do it for him, her schedule was as full as his with her work as a mediwitch at St Mungo's. Besides that, she detested paperwork even more than he did.

His eyes lingered on the last entry: the payment from the Potters, plus, as promised by Mr Potter, a very generous bonus. Warmth spread in his chest, he ought to take the time tomorrow and visit the Potters and thank them in person. After that, he'd clear his schedule, he was overdue for a holiday, and Elisabeth would be happy to have some quality time with him. Thanks to Mr Potter's generosity he'd surprise her with the trip to Australia she'd dreamed of for so many years, but always dismissed as too expensive: there was the mortgage to pay or their children in need of this or that.

He closed the ledger with a contented sigh and leaned back in his chair, picked up the glass of firewhiskey and swirled it, watching as the smokey amber liquid rolled around his tumbler.

There was no denying he'd done many things right in the Potter case, there was, however, always room for improvement. Not to mention there were still some loose ends that were prickling at the back of his brain. As of yet he'd made no progress into the investigation of the many accidents that had befallen the Potters, namely the incident on the night of promotional party. It had taken a backseat to the investigation of Ginny Weasley's death.

He picked up the folder that held the details of that incident and leafed through the pages until his eyes came to rest on the list of people who'd been present.

Draco Malfoy, allegedly reformed Death Eater and former childhood nemesis of Mr Potter.

Sophie Malfoy, nee Roper, his wife. Probably he should look into her connection to Geoffrey Roper and his sister, the hopefully soon to be ex-Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He considered the possibility, then shook his head, he doubted that Geoffrey Roper would deign to allow the now disgraced Malfoy line that close to his own.

Theodore Nott, Malfoy's best friend, his echo and amplifier during his Hogwarts days.

Roger Davies, Malfoy's lawyer, a slimeball if he'd ever seen one, yet damned good at his job, almost as good as Goldstein from all reports. He'd bailed Malfoy out of prison more times than he'd care to admit. However, there was no discernable motive for harming Daphne Potter.

Blaise Zabini, may his soul rot in hell.

Cormac McLaggen, so full of himself that it was a miracle he didn't explode. He'd been a failed candidate years ago when he applied for a job at Crystal Fairy. Was that slight enough to let him search revenge years later? It sounded far fetched, yet stranger things had happened.

But what about his wife, Pansy? She and Mrs Potter had been dorm mates; Mrs McLaggen-Parkinson had ruled the roost back then, she'd designated herself to become the new queen of magical society as soon as she had left school, while Mrs Potter had been the overlooked wallflower. Magical history had reversed their roles in the last ten years in the most dramatic way. Mrs Potter's influence among the women and teenaged girls in magical Britain could not be overstated, and he struggled to think of a woman who was more influential; not since the early days of Narcissa Malfoy's reign as a charitable force had one woman dominated the social pages and epitomised what it was to be intelligent, elegant and sophisticated. Mrs McLaggen-Parkinson in comparison had faded into insignificance not long after her marriage. Was that enough for an attack?

Then there were the employees of Crystal Fairy: Pince, Abbott, Pyke, and the new representative of Elias Frudge's company. Mrs Potter had stood at an adjoining table, together with Director McLean, his deputy Patterson, and the two other potion master, Cadwallader and Williams.

His eyes lingered on the last name.

Morten Williams.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose. The name came up much too often for his liking in both cases. Williams had been present during both attacks on Mrs Potter's life, and Williams had sent the pictures of Mr Potter with Ginny Weasley to the D,M.L.E.. For what reason? It suggested he had a motive of wanting Mrs Potter behind prison bars. Why? The only connection between him and the Potters was his job, and there was not the slightest hint they had any problems in that area.

He leafed through the folder until he came to the report about Morten Williams his contact had sent him from the USA. His eyes got stuck on another name: Alexander Carrington.

His stomach hardened, and he gasped.

Was that the missing link?

His hands clutched the folder until his knuckles stood out white as he stared down on the parchment in front of him without really seeing a thing, while he reexamined the facts he knew about both men.

Williams and Carrington were roommates at school.

Williams had emigrated to magical Britain about five years ago and broke off all contact with his family.

Carrington had left the USA around the same time and lived in Paris ever since then. According to his neighbours he was a hermit who was never seen outside of the house.

Carrington was almost as rich as the Potters.

Williams lived a lifestyle that exceeded his means, and his flat was owned by Carrington through a chain of companies.

And then there was the elf. How could he have been that blind? An elf with the same injury had opened him the door at Williams' flat in London and at Carrington's house in Paris. The odds that this was coincidental were astronomically small, near zero. It had to have been the same elf on both occasions.

His heart missed a beat and then almost thumped out of his chest.

What if Williams and Carrington were the same person?

His hands became clammy and moist, and he lowered the folder onto his desk. Could that be? It sounded so far-fetched. And yet he knew that it had happened before, the story of the fake Alastair Moody teaching at Hogwarts for almost a year came to mind…

He took a deep breath, he had to stay calm and look at all the facts as unemotional as possible, too much depended on that.

Carrington must have held Williams captive somewhere for almost five years, to have easy access his hair so that he could assume his looks with the help of Polyjuice Potion. That fit with Williams' silence towards his family for that period of time. Carrington had made one big mistake, however, used to the finer things in life, he wasn't able to part with his lifestyle and lived on a scale that the poor Morton Williams never could have afforded.

But what purpose was behind that charade?

An ice-cold fear seemed to enclose his heart in a fist. With trembling hands he searched for the file Mr Potter had sent him a couple of days ago, after the end of the first day of Mrs Potter's trial, and opened it. It was about Cyrus Greengrass' brother and his relation to the Greengrass family after he had been disinherited.

Mr Potter had scribbled a question beside his last report in his untidy scrawl: _What if Damian Greengrass' son wants to exact revenge for his father and is after Daphne?_

That was it, Carrington had been hidden in plain sight all the time in the guise of Morten Williams and used each opportunity that presented itself to him to kill Mrs Potter. He'd bet his PI licence that Wiliams was the one behind the two attacks on Mrs Potter, the potion incident five years ago that killed her unborn baby, as well as the "bbq-grill accident" on the night of the promotional party. He wouldn't be surprised, either, if Carrington turned out to be the driving force behind all the other accidents the Potters had had. Apparently he'd also used the opportunity the criminal investigation against Mrs Potter presented and sent presumably damning evidence to the D.M.L.E. to get her into Azkaban. When that plan didn't work, he resorted to another direct attack in the Ministry.

His breath caught in his chest. At least he'd prevented that as he walked between Williams' wand and Mrs Potter.

He jumped up from his chair. There was no time to lose, the Potters needed to be informed of that latest discovery before they ventured out of _The Rectory,_ and then he'd put Head Auror Weasley on Carrington's heels.

He ran down the stairs and grabbed his coat from the peg of the coat rack in the hallway. 'I'm going out, Elizabeth, don't wait for me for dinner.'

The door to the kitchen opened, the mouth-watering aroma of home-cooked pot-roast permeated the small corridor, and his wife stuck her head out of the door. 'But what -'

'I'm sorry, love, I promise I'll make it up to you when I'm back,' he said, his hand already at the door handle.

Elizabeth's resigned sigh followed him out of the door, and his stomach gave an uncomfortable twist. How many times had he disappointed her like this in their marriage? Too many to count, of that he was certain, he promised himself that the holiday to Australia would go ahead, even if he had to drop a couple of cases to do it.

He reached the Apparition Point, all thoughts of his wife sunk into the background as he concentrated and turned on the spot.

A split-second later he re-appeared on the Apparition Point of _The Rectory._ He lost no time and rushed towards the gate of the house. It opened under the touch of his hand.

Matty was already waiting for him at the open front door.

'I need to talk to your master and mistress, it's urgent,' he near shouted, before even he had reached the door.

The bat-like ears of the small creature drooped. 'Matty bes sorry, Master Harry and Mistress Daffy not bes at home.'

Nicholas stopped in his tracks. Damned, he hadn't counted on them leaving the house tonight, he'd thought Mrs Potter too stressed out by the trial to want to go out. 'Can you tell me where they are?'

Matty hesitated.

'It's very important, Matty. They are in great danger, and their lives might depend on it.'

The large eyes of the small creature grew even bigger and it wrung its hands. 'Master Harry took Mistress Daffy to their favourite restaurant in Muggle London.'

'Can you take me to them? There's no time to lose.'

He had no idea where that urgency came from, but his gut told him not to waste precious time.

Matty nodded, vanished, appeared next to him and grabbed his hand. The next moment they stood in a tiny backyard, behind a row of waste bins.

'The restaurant bes across the street,' the elf said and pointed with a spidery finger at a two-storey high mews house.

Nicholas lost no time. Thankfully he had developed the habit of dressing in a conservative Muggle suit and tie when working, even if for the first time, his tie was still sitting on his desk at home. You never knew when you would have to make a mad dash to the Muggle world in his job, even without the tie he didn't need to be concerned about raising the suspicions of the Muggles when he entered the restaurant.

He strode across the street and pushed the door to the restaurant open. The welcoming smell of freshly baked Italian bread with garlic and a homely interior greeted him.

His eyes scanned the room.

The Potters sat in a box in one corner of the room. Mrs Potter had her back to him, Mr Potter sat, his back to the wall, overlooking the restaurant. His eyes were fixed on the single man in the adjoining box, and his expression was taut.

So, his gut feeling had been right. Something was decidedly off. Nicholas' wand sprung into his hand at the same moment as Mr Potter yelled, 'DAPHNE, DUCK!'

'AVADA KEDAVRA!' a cold voice shouted, and a green flash raced towards the box of the Potters.

 _t.b.c._


	105. Chapter 102

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's Notes:** Almost there! I hope after this chapter you'll forgive me for the cliffhangers. Thank you for pointing out the misspelling of the Killing Curse. I was so concentrated on wrapping up the lose ends I didn't think to check the spelling of the curses. It's now fixed.

Another round of applause to Shygui, please! He's working faithfully on this story until the end. You rock!

Chapter **102** , 28/11/19

* * *

 **102**

 _ **Ristaurante Da Cosimo, London, June 5th 2008**_

The green flash raced towards Daphne's head.

Harry froze.

Daphne slumped bonelessly to one side.

The poison green spell raced towards him. He blinked and his whole body became weightless with giddiness. She survived!

'Move, idiot!' Daphne screamed.

He lent to his left, but kept his wand trained on Carrington. The spell sizzled at him, it tugged at his jacket before it flashed past, and the wall behind him exploded under its impact. Tiny shards of red bricks and mortar pelted his back as he straightened, and finer dust rained down from above.

He didn't care. His steady hand pointed his wand at his opponent. One wrong move, and he'd blast the bastard into the next dimension or maybe even the one after that. Making sure that Carrington couldn't see what he was doing, he signalled Daphne with his left hand to get lower and she dropped onto the floor silently, her eyes wide and fearful.

He ground out, 'Give up, Carrington. Your game is over.'

The bastard didn't even flinch. His wand pointed at him, ready to cast at the tiniest sign of weakness, his face morphed into an ugly sneer.

'So you've finally caught on, have you Potter. Congratulations, it only took you five whole years. What gave me away, if I may ask? For it surely must have been a mistake on my side, you're too dumb to draw the right conclusions, given the plethora of evidence before you.'

Harry ignored the taunts. Just like his opponent he waited for an opening.

'You know, I once held a wizard at wandpoint who was far more powerful than you, although just like you he loved to try to belittle and taunt me. Not that it did him any good in the end, he's been six feet under for more than ten years now. Oh, but you know that already, don't you? Weren't you and your parents among his little group of fanatical brown nosers? Tell me, how bright was the light after you pulled your head out of Voldemort's arse?'

'Don't you dare say his name, you filthy half blood!' Carrington's face turned into a crimson mask of hate, loathing and fear.

Harry shrugged. 'Well it's not really his name, is it, but alright, I don't want you to wet your pants. To answer your question, your body language gave you away, and you also possess a faint likeness to Cyrus. You might have disguised your appearance with Polyjuice for five years so you looked like Williams, but you didn't change the way you move.'

A man clad into an impeccable Muggle suit minus his tie turned up slightly left of Carrington's shoulder, a wand pointed at the back of Carrington's head.

Harry almost sagged with relief and gratitude. Greco! Between the two of them they should be able to overcome the bastard, if he had the room to move he wouldn't need the help, but he was currently pinned in this booth. He had to make sure the bastard had no more opportunities to hurt Daphne. He'd better keep talking to distract him.

'Just out of curiosity, what happened to the real Williams, the poor sod?'

Carrington sneered at him.

Behind Carrington's shoulder, Greco held up three fingers. Harry didn't bat an eyelid.

'I've kept the imbecile in a hidden compartment in my trunk.'

Greco bent one finger down.

'I'll get rid of him as soon as I've dealt with you and your whore.' Carrington taunted him again, his voice full of hate.

Greco's second finger went down.

'Taking a page out of your masters book, aren't you? He failed, and you'll also fail.'

'I wont! The Greengrass fortune will be mine to control, and the Potter fortune on top of it!' Carrington screeched. 'I got Cyrus and the two bitches with that Portkey, and today will have seen the last of you and your whore!'

Greco lowered his hand.

'BOMBARDA MAXIMA!' he and Harry shouted unison. Harry put all magical strength he possessed into that spell. Carrington's confession that he had murdered Cyrus, Isabella and Tori doubled his power.

Both spells impacted with Carrington's head and chest at the same moment. His skull cracked open like a melon hitting the ground, and a huge hole appeared in his chest.

There was a long moment of silence. No one in the room moved.

'Well, he was a presumptuous little bastard, wasn't he,' Greco said at last, and stared down at the crumpled mass sprawled across the table of the booth that once had been Carrington.

'Uh-huh,' Harry said. His eyes searched for his wife.

She was still hidden behind the bench of their booth, her wand in her hand. At the metallic smell of blood in the air she gagged and pressed her hand in front of her mouth.

Harry stashed his wand away and rushed to his wife. 'Come on, darling, let me get you out of here. Close your eyes and don't look, what's left of Carrington is not a sight for an expectant mummy.' He held out his hand and helped her to her feet.

Daphne's hand was clammy, and her breath came in shallow gulps. She trembled all over her body and had her eyes closed.

He put his arm around her waist and led her past the frozen Muggles in the restaurant towards the door. From the corner of his eyes he caught the silhouette of a silvery four-legged animal. A fox? He didn't care, Merlin bless Greco that he'd thought of alerting the Aurors, and probably the Obliviator Squad, too.

He opened the door and led Daphne outside.

Out on the pavement, he took her in his arms and rubbed her back in soothing circles. 'Shh, love, it's alright, it's finally over, we're safe now.'

She nodded and buried her head deeper into his shoulder. Eventually, the trembling subsided and her breath became even.

He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. 'I'd love to take you home, darling, but I guess we'll have to stay until the Aurors took our statement, or Ron will never let me hear the end of it.'

'Too right,' a voice said behind him.

Harry whirled around, his wand flowing into his hand at the ready.

'Whoa, hold in your Hippogriffs, Potter!' Ron raised his hands and took a step back.

Heat shot into Harry's face. 'Sorry, mate.' He let the wand slip back into its holster. 'Right now I'm a trifle jumpy.'

'No kidding.' Ron cocked his head towards the restaurant. 'What happened inside there?'

'Carrington.' Daphne stiffened at the name, and Harry tightened his grip around her. 'He came after us tonight. He's masked himself as Williams with Polyjuice for five years. He's the one responsible for the two attacks on Daphne, and probably also all those accidents that happened to us. It was his body language tonight that gave him away, he moved like Williams and I got suspicious, but didn't act before he could fire the Killing Curse at Daphne. It missed, obviously, although it was a close call.'

Ron's mouth became a grim line. 'Bastard. You dealt with him?'

Harry grimaced and nodded. 'Yeah, together with Greco. You'll find him and what's left of Carrington inside of the restaurant.'

'Is that so?' Ron's eyebrows shot up, and he gave Harry a respectful nod. 'In that case, good for you. Although I must say I didn't think you had it in you.'

Harry's stomach tightened into a hard ball as the impact of what he'd done sank in. He'd killed a man in cold blood for the first time in his life. Voldemort didn't count, he'd brought on his own death on himself by choosing to cast the Killing Curse with a wand that owed its allegiance to Harry. He always thought of that as collateral damage. This time, however…

He listened into himself for the familiar feeling of guilt and found - nothing. Carrington would have been a constant threat to his family, even if they'd captured him and brought him to Azkaban he wouldn't have felt safe. The world was better off without him.

He shrugged. 'I wasn't exactly out to kill him, I just chose the spell that would cause the most damage across a wide area, without giving a damn for a lethal outcome.'

Ron gave him a knowing look. 'Good for you,' he repeated. Then he took a deep breath. 'Alright, Harry, take Daphne home. Merlin knows you two have been through far too much during these past weeks. I'll deal with the mess inside and come over to your place tomorrow morning and take your statements.'

Harry gave his friend a small smile of thanks. 'Thank you, Ron, you're a good friend.'

He was about to take his friends advice when Ron looked past him and nodded at someone over his shoulder, so he turned his own head around.

Nicholas Greco stood a few yards behind them, his head tilted back and seemingly looking up at the night sky. Though, given this was London, no stars were visible, so what was the man looking at? Was he trying to find his inner balance after he'd just helped killing a man, or was he just trying to pass time until the Aurors were finished with the mess he'd created together with Harry?

Ron gave his shoulder a squeeze and then moved towards the restaurant. He stopped when he reached Greco and muttered a brief comment.

Greco nodded his ascent and then turned towards Harry, who still cradled his wife in his arms.

Before Harry could open his own mouth Greco had beaten him to it, 'Mr Potter I just wanted to say ... '

Harry cut him off, 'It's Harry to you Nicholas, you've just helped save my wife's and my life, so please call me Harry.'

Greco look momentarily taken aback before a small frown appeared. 'Not sure I have earned that right, Harry, but thank you. I just wish I had put the clues of Carrington masquerading as William's together sooner.'

Harry smiled at the man and held Daphne tighter to himself, her shaking had almost subsided. 'You still figured it out before anyone else, Nicholas, and you came as soon as you could. We couldn't ask for more than that, so thank you.'

Greco shook himself. 'Sorry I didn't mean to keep you, you should get Daphne home. I just wanted to thank you for the generous bonus, as I am not sure when I will see you next.' A wry smile broke across his face. 'I'm planning to take my wife for a long overdue holiday to Australia with it as soon as I can arrange four weeks off for us both.'

'That's a very good idea Nicholas, but I have a better one, schedule your time off and then schedule a meeting with us in a couple of weeks. I'll have a… well, a token of our thanks for you then.' He almost laughed at the shocked look that appeared on Greco's face before he looked down on the head of his wife against his shoulder. She looked pale and tired to her bones. It was high time to get her home. He gave her a small nudge. 'Come on, love, let's get you home.' He tightened his arms around her, spun on the spot, and Apparated her away, into a hopefully bright future.

 _t.b.c._


	106. Epilogue

**Disclaimer:** Everythingbelongs to J.K.R.

 **Author's notes:** Today at the bottom.

 **Epilogue,** 30/11/19

* * *

 **Epilogue**

 _ **London, June 2009**_

Daphne left St Mungo's through the revolving doors that led to Muggle London and lifted her face up towards the warm summer sun. She briefly wondered if it was as sunny in Germany where the Greco's were now, on their second Potter paid vacation. Which reminded her that they really ought to stop talking about visiting Andy and Teddy in New Zealand and actually book their own holiday before they ran out of time again.

Her health exam had taken much longer than scheduled, due to some rather unexpected developments, and Harry would probably be walking a hole into their office carpet by now. She smiled, he was so overprotective when it came to her and their daughter, but she loved him even more for that.

A free black cab approached the building. All of a sudden not in the mood for a ride on the tube, she raised her arm to signal the driver.

The car pulled to the curb, she opened the door, climbed inside, and told the driver the address of the headquarters of Crystal Fairy in Langbourn.

If he wondered what brought a smartly dressed business woman into that somewhat shabby part of London near King's Cross, he didn't let on, just nodded gave a 'Right you are, love,' and pulled the car back onto the street. Thankfully he wasn't one for talking, either, just giving her an occasional glance in the revision mirror.

With a silent thanks for his silence Daphne closed her eyes, leaned her head against the headrest, and took the unexpected break in her busy life to count her blessings.

She had many of them.

Who would have thought eleven years ago that she and Harry would be blissfully happy and madly in love? Her mouth curved into a soft smile. They'd had such an unhappy beginning, and yet they'd made the most of it.

The happiest day in her life, however, had been the fifteenth of January this year, the day when their daughter was born. They had waited so long for that day, they'd given up all hope of having a family of more than just the two of them. When Healer Payne had told them of her pregnancy, right after her arrest for her alleged murder of Ginny, it had been like a miracle, a golden ray of sunshine in a desperate time.

She sobered. Ginny had been dead for more than a year now, and Molly still wasn't completely her old self, there was a brittleness to her that Harry said reminded him of right after the war when Fred Weasley had died. She'd not known the Weasley matriarch well enough back then to notice, but she trusted her husband's judgement on this.

Neither was their relationship back to what it had been before the trial, no matter how hard they'd all tried. At least things had taken a huge turn for the better ever since little Callie's birth, Arthur and Molly had become her surrogate grandparents, just as they had hoped, and loved her as if she was their own granddaughter.

Only two weeks after Callista's birth Hermione had given birth to her second child, Hugo. Daphne liked to tease Ron that Hugo was a month early and that she was elated her acquittal was the cause of so much celebration in their house, even if Hermione vehemently denied this being the case, she was totally adamant that she'd been pregnant before Daphne's trial and that they hadn't had celebratory sex because Ron was working for most of the night, thanks to the incident at _Da Cosimo's_. When Lisa followed one month later with her third one, this time a little girl, she couldn't help but laugh and give them both a knowing look every time the subject came up.

Two months after the trial had been completed, they got an owl from Anthony and then read the next day in the Sunday Prophet about his surprise engagement. By Wednesday they had an invite to attend the wedding not three weeks later.

She'd had to hastily arrange a suitable dress as her baby bump was just making its first appearance and Harry had been his overly protective self ensuring that no-one accidently bumped into her tummy.

She'd heard of the classic wandpoint wedding, and although Anthony seemed to be on the receiving end of some very dark glares from the father of his long-time girlfriend, Lexie Brocklehurst, Daphne was positive that neither Anthony nor his beautiful bride noticed once Lexie started walking down the aisle, as they only had eyes for each other.

Lexie, who was the younger sister of their classmate Mandy, and also a former Ravenclaw, had been one of Astoria's best friends when they attended Hogwarts. After they had reconnected Lexi and Daphne had spent several afternoons together reduced to what they both called a sea of hormonal tears of sadness and joy as they remembered Tori.

Eventually Lexie had become a permanent fixture in her life and started joining her with the other girls in their frequent get Goldstein's little boy, Paul, had been born one day after Lisa's daughter, so maybe the Weasleys and Finch-Fletchleys weren't the only ones who had been in jubilant mood and celebrated her acquittal horizontally.

This meant Molly had her hands full of babies as they each took up her offers of babysitting, given that most of their parents still worked and they wanted their kids to know one another. It was a perfect solution that allowed them all to return to some sort of part time work at least. As soon as Molly had met Anthony and Lexie at one of their Shell Cottage gatherings, she'd had even less time to dwell on her loss, as she extended her babysitting offer to include them, hopefully all those babies would bring Molly some semblance of peace in time.

Alexander Carrington had also been dead for more than a year now. She shuddered, even one year later she didn't like to admit that she was related by blood to that monster. What he'd done to poor Morten Williams…

True to Carrington's bragging the Aurors had found the real Morten Williams in a secret compartment of the trunk Carrington kept as a bar in his study. Physically, he was alright, Carrington had seen to that by a copious use of Compulsion Charms, mind-altering potions, and the liberal application of the Imperius Curse, that all forced his victim to take care of himself. To reach his goals, he'd needed Williams to be in a top shape, so he'd installed an impressive array of exercise equipment in the trunk and made sure the man had maintained a healthy diet.

Mentally, however, the real Williams was an empty shell of a man. All those charms and potions and curses had destroyed his mind and his magic. Yet his parents had been overjoyed to see him again after the long years they'd thought he'd turned his back on them.

Williams now lived in a private special-care home, close to his parent's house, where he had a huge, sunlit room and all the exercise equipment he asked for. She'd made sure that the real Williams had everything he'd need for the rest of his life, and that his parents also were well taken care of.

As the last living member of the Greengrass family she had become Carrington's heir. What an irony, since he'd wanted to kill her to get at her and Harry's gold!

It wasn't until Daphne had called the former Carrington elf, Seedy, that they had discovered the depth of those plans and how he had found them at the restaurant that night. As Daphne was "family", Seedy knew where she was and had been forced to relay this information back to his Master. There were far more attempts on their lives than they had realised, but the last straw was the confirmation that Carrington hadn't been talking out his arse in the restaurant that night and had actually arranged the deaths of Daphne's mother, father and sister, as a magical DNA analysis of the manipulated Portkey confirmed: it had traces of Carrington's DNA, since the Polyjuice Potion altered the appearance, but not the DNA.

Once she knew that, she and Harry had set about trying to annihilate and obliterate the Carrington empire from the public's psyche. Nothing of that horrible name ought to remain.

Seedy had been healed as best they could, given the long delay in treatment, though he still only had about sixty percent movement in the shoulder that Carrington had damaged. He was now helping them destroy what his Master's and Mistresses had once built.

They still were in the process of selling the estate, and collecting the gold in a special trust vault. They'd probably need another year to wrap up the last of the businesses, and then they'd take the gold and put it into a huge charity to make up for the injustices of Pureblood Supremacism in Britain as well as in the USA. Hah, that should make all three Carringtons roll in their graves! Especially when they named it the Astoria Greengrass Trust, a daughter that the Carrington's would have likely thought should have been drowned at birth

The cab had reached her destination during her musings, Daphne absentmindedly paid the driver and climbed out of the car.

So much had changed in her life, yet the entrance hall of the headquarters of Crystal Fairy still was the same. She nodded a short hello to the receptionist and took the elevator to the topmost floor of offices, where the conference rooms and her and Harry's office were.

Fleur sat behind their assistant's desk, one ear on the telephone receiver, and scribbling down notes while she uhm-ed and ah-ed at what whoever was on the other end of the line said. She gave her a small wave with the biro in her hand and returned her attention back to the call.

Daphne opened the door to her and Harry's office. This also hadn't changed, they refused to have separate offices, even though she didn't work as much anymore as she'd done before her pregnancy.

Neither did Harry.

Little Callista took precedence in their lives, and still the company thrived. They'd delegated quite a lot of their daily duties to their directors and promoted some others including some friends into new positions. Harry had also finally convinced Anthony to join them on the board as general council, although Daphne had conducted a fair bit of behind the scenes lobbying of Lexie about this too, so all in all things were very good...

The indignant wail of a very small child greeted her when she walked into the room.

'Uh oh, what's wrong, Grouchetta?' she asked the tiny bundle at her husband's shoulder, and bent down to give first her daughter, then her husband a kiss in greeting.

Harry shot her a reproachful look over their daughter's head. 'Do you have to ask? Her Ungraciousness is hungry, that's all. Like mother, like daughter, right, my little princess?'

Callista let out a sound that might be interpreted as consent, stuffed her little fist into her mouth and sucked at it, her forehead creased into deep frowns.

Harry dropped a kiss on his daughter's head and looked up. 'Be a dear and get her bottle, or she'll scream bloody murder in another minute.'

'Language, honey. She'll talk sooner than you know.' Daphne chuckled and walked into the adjoining room to get Callie's bottle. Neither she nor Harry had wanted to be separated from their little daughter for long work days, so they'd turned Cyrus former office next to theirs into a nursery, with an always open door joining both rooms. It was a common occurrence these days to find Harry or her with the baby at their shoulder while they answered phone calls or mail, or even received visitors.

What use was it to be your own boss if you couldn't adjust your workspace to meet the needs of your family? Maybe they needed to have a creche built for all the company babies? Well, that was something to ponder later.

Mipsy met her halfway into the sunlit nursery, Callie's bottle at the ready.

Daphne thanked the little elf, took the bottle, and returned to the office.

Harry had already settled down in the leather couch of the reception area, a meanwhile rather grumpy baby at his shoulder.

She handed him the bottle and sat down beside him. For long minutes they watched their feeding daughter in a contented silence.

'So how was your health exam? Is everything alright? Why did it take so long for you to get back?' Harry asked at length.

'It couldn't have gone better.' A soft smile played around her lips.

Harry's eyes narrowed. 'You're hiding something from me, darling. Out with it, what did the healer say?'

She bent towards him and kissed him. 'Stop worrying, honey, I'm perfectly fine.'

'Daphne…!'

Her smile deepened. 'What do you think about enlarging the nursery, honey? According to Healer Payne we'll need two more cribs in January next year.'

'T… two what?'

His grip around the bottle slackened. The tit glided out of Callista's tiny mouth.

Daphne's laughter was drowned out by the irate wail of their daughter.

 **The End**

* * *

About two years ago I read about the Snowflake Method as a tool for easier plotting. Curious as I am, I had to give it a try, and about four weeks later I had a plan for a story and a list of 100+ scenes planned out.

Shygui and I had traded PMs for quite some time back then, and we got to talk about what I was writing on. Next thing, I invited him to my cloud to have a look at my list of scenes and the epilogue that was already written.

He started to add his thoughts and suggestions, and before I knew it we had the most amazing writing collaboration I've ever experienced. Well, you know the rest.

Today, almost two years and almost 350 k words later, we've finally finished MoC. To say that feels weird is an understatement.

I can't repeat enough how much this story owes to Shygui. He did much more than catching my spelling and grammar errors and translating my sometimes weird German-inspired dialogues into proper spoken English. He suggested the introduction of more characters and a couple of plot twists that added depth to the story. Also, all over the story there are many small additions from him, whenever he felt the readers might like some more information or would like a sneak peak into what a character thought. Thanks to him, the story became multi-dimensional.

So, please, give him s shout:

 **Thank you, Shygui!**

 **You are the best!**

Also, I'm absolutely humbled how many of you stuck with this story, waited patiently for each new chapter, and reviewed faithfully chapter for chapter. You kept me going, even though there have been times I wished I had never again to write one word of this story. I didn't want to disappoint you, so I pulled myself together and wrote the next chapter. So, another big

 **Thank you!**

goes to you for your support.

For the next couple of months I'd like to concentrate on my unfinished stories. Right now I'm not in the mood to tackle a new big project, I'd rather muddle my way through the stories that await updates for far too long. But there are one or two plot bunnies sitting in my cloud that beg for more attention and look like they might like to develop into another monster story. So beware, you don't get rid of me yet. ;)


End file.
